Elena Sinistra and the Potions Riddle
by eliestarr
Summary: Starting your first year as "the teacher's daughter" isn't very fun. Especially if you get off on the wrong foot with those in a nasty house. But if you catch the eye of one Draco Malfoy? Well, things could definitely get interesting.
1. Shopping in Diagon Alley

**_Chapter One: Shopping In Diagon Alley_**

"Oh, Mum, what about this one?" I asked for what must have been the umpteenth time, holding up the strange little trinket for my mother to see.

She sighed, turning to face me, looking rather tired of my game. She knew I'd been doing it on purpose to impede her business with the man behind the counter. I've done it every time we come here, because he really gives me the creeps. Mr. Borgin glared at me from over my mother's shoulder and I grinned innocently, putting the trinket back on the shelf.

Wandering towards the back of the room, through shelves of nasty looking artifacts, I found myself by the fireplace. A fireplace that looked like it hadn't been taken care of in years, honestly. The layer of dust along the mantle was probably thicker than my nail. I gravitated towards the shriveled hand sitting atop the dust, the one that had been there for as long as I can remember. It certainly wasn't the object of my interest, though. What was sitting in a glass case above the hand was the thing that fascinated me the most.

It was a small telescope only about the size of my hand, and onyx black, bewitched to look like the night sky, sparkling like stars. I've always had a thing for the stars, something which I'd clearly inherited from my mother, but Mr. Borgin charged far too much for the beauty of a telescope, and as such, it still wasn't mine.

Last year I'd tried to pick it up, just to look at it more closely, but the hand…

I shuddered just thinking about it. It had shot out and grabbed my arm, gripping so tight it nearly broke my wrist. I hadn't been able to get out of it, and Mr. Borgin had had to come and make it stop, telling me the "Hand of Glory" wasn't fond of thieves.

"Elena, come on sweetie, we're leaving." I spun towards the sound of my mother's voice, spotting her near the door, holding a small bag. Done, thank Merlin! I started towards her just as the door swung open, dinging and watched as her whole face changed. In stepped a tall man with long, pale blonde hair that fell just past his shoulders, his head high. His cane clinked against the ground, his long black robes billowing around him, and a boy slightly taller than me followed him, his blond hair gelled back.

"Well, well," the man smiled, spotting my mother. "Aurora, so nice to see you."

"Lucius," she dipped her head politely, thin smile playing on her lips. Her hand reached out slightly, and I took it as my cue to go to her, grabbing her hand and sticking close to her side. I didn't like the uncomfortable vibe my mother gave off when the man arrived.

The man who smiled wider upon seeing me, it seemed. "Ah, little Elena. Stocking up for your first year at Hogwarts I see. Draco as well." My eyes drifted to the boy then—his son, I gathered. Grayish eyes looked back, and we broke into simultaneous smiles. I'd never seen the boy in my life, I was sure, but something about him seemed familiar. Odd. "It's been quite some time."

"I'm sorry?" I frowned. "I don't believe I know who you are."

"Of course. You would've been too young when your f—"

"I'm sorry, Lucius, but we really must be off." Mum squeezed my hand, pushing past the father and son duo and out the door, the little bell dinging behind us. I frowned, wondering why my mother had cut him off so rudely. Once we made it out of Knockturn Alley and onto the streets of it's much brighter and busier sister market, Diagon Alley, I stopped.

"Mum?" I called, looking up at her. She turned to face me, hair falling around her face, her eyes shining. A smile broke out on her lips, as clearly she was more comfortable now. Mum had always been pretty. A wilderness that has been tamed, my grandma said. And my complete opposite. The only thing we have in common is our love of the stars. She is tall, with long wavy black hair and bright hazel eyes, whereas my hair is blonde, flat and my eyes are blue. I remembered grandma saying I had my father's looks instead of Mum's, but since I don't remember him, I have no way of being sure. But I think someone else did. "Did he…did you cut that man off because he was about to mention Dad?"

"Lucius Malfoy is a slimy man, Elena, and I don't want him around my daughter. He speaks nothing but rubbish."

"But he said—"

"Elena!" Whatever I'd been about to point out to my mother vanished upon hearing that voice, and I spun, huge smile stretching across my lips, towards the girl it belonged to. She launched herself at me, bushy brown hair clouding my sight.

"Monica, Wendell, I wondered if we might cross you here!" I heard my mother say, and I assumed my friend's parents had come with her. I couldn't tell, mind you, because her hair blocked my view of anything else.

"Hermione, you're suffocating me," I laughed, patting her on the back. Apologizing swiftly, she stepped back, smoothing out her hair. "You act like we didn't visit grandma just last week."

"She's been pouting nonstop since you left Maryanne's," her mother smiled, looking to mine. "You think you could move in with your mother next door to avoid it?"

"Sorry." Mum laughed, shaking her head, while Hermione shot her mother an indignant look.

"Do you blame me?" Hermione asked, taking my hand. "We're finally going to Hogwarts! Magic and classes and—oh, it's just so exciting!"

"You might want to actually get your things first, silly," I chuckled, seeing as they haven't got a single thing from the list that came with our letters. Pulling Hermione along, I headed for the nearest store on our list—Flourish and Blotts, watching Hermione's eyes light up as she spotted it.

Bookworm.

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A/N: And there you have it, the first chapter! I'm hoping you guys'll like it and wonder about the few cues I've left in. Since I've uploaded the first two chapters, read on :) and please remember to tell me what you think! Reviews make the world go round.


	2. Hogwarts Express

**_Chapter Two: Hogwarts Express_**

"Ugh…there we ago," I sighed, finally managing to push my trunk into the compartment my mother and I shared. An exhausting ordeal, given that she'd been sitting there the whole time, watching, a calico cat sitting in her lap. The orange, white and black cat looked up at me with golden eyes. The sight of Lightning brought a smile to my lips. Grandma gave her as a gift to me last year for my tenth birthday, and she'd followed me everywhere since. My house, grandma's, even playing in the neighborhood with Hermione.

Speaking of which… "Mum, I'm off to find Hermione." I told her, slipping out of the compartment before she could tell me otherwise, thank Merlin. I wanted to find Hermione, the faster the better, as it meant I wouldn't have to share a compartment with Mum. I mean, I'm pretty sure no other student on this train has to share a compartment with their parent. Sighing, I began my search for my best friend. A long one, I'd bet, since Mum chose one of the last compartments on the train and there were so very many to—

"Bloody hell!" I looked to my left, spotting a boy with unruly black hair trying to haul his trunk onto the train. From the compartment beside me came a loud squawking, and I peek inside to see a pure white owl in a cage, hooting. Pretty. My attention fell back to the boy, who I assumed was the owner, and I stepped up to the door.

"Excuse me," I spoke, but regretted it as I startled him and he dropped his trunk on his foot again, swearing. "I'm sorry!" I hopped from the train. "Did you want help?"

"That'd be great, thanks."

Well, unfortunately, I wasn't much better. I'd sought to make up for having him drop it on his foot on my account, but even together, we didn't manage to get it much further onto the train. The best we'd managed to do was get covered in a layer of sweat. Brilliant. After a few minutes of struggling, the weight was lifted from my hands by a tall boy with red hair and what was obviously his twin brother. "Here, let us," he grinned. I remembered seeing them earlier outside with a large group of red-heads: two other boys and a little girl. Weasleys, my mother had told me, waving at the mother of the family as we'd passed.

The boy and I stepped away, and in seconds they lifted his trunk onto the train and into a corner of his compartment, his white owl hooting away the whole time. "Thanks," the boy pushed sweaty hair out his eyes, and my eyes widened. On his forehead, I could've sworn…

"What's that?" one of the twins said suddenly, pointing at his forehead. Clearly, I wasn't the only one to have seen it. The boy lifted the hair from his face, revealing a lightning-shaped scar. _No way… _"Blimey. Are you—"

"He is!" said the other twin. "Aren't you?"

"What?" the boy frowned, their question clearly lost on him.

"Harry Potter," they chorused.

"Oh, him," the boy said. "I mean, yes, I am." The twins gawked at him until he turned bright red in the face, beginning to shuffle his feet. Clearly, they were making him uncomfortable.

"Can't you see you're embarrassing him?" I stepped forward, between the red-heads and Harry. _Harry Potter!_ Despite the excitement I felt, I looked up at the twins, defiant. "Honestly, I doubt he wants this on his first day."

One of the twins raised their eyebrow at me, while the other grinned. "Someone's got quite a bit of fire to them for a First Year." His eyes trailed to the door, and a woman's call reached all our ears. "Right then. We'll be off. Mum's calling."

And with that they slipped out of the train, leaving me and Harry Potter alone. "Thanks." I turned to face him, offering him my hand.

"Elena." We shook.

"Harry, but you already knew that."

"Sorry again about your foot," I smiled, taking a step back. "I've got to be off to find my friend. Pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise."

I turned, making my way into the next car, pushing past a couple of students who were already in their uniform, when we hadn't even left yet. I would've laughed, yet I felt that Hermione would be the same once I found her. In Hogwarts robes and probably talking off the ear of some poor—

"Have you seen how many there are? Walking around the platform with their filthy Muggle parents. You can tell, can't you, because they haven't got a clue!" a familiar voice proclaimed loudly, and I paused, leaning closer to the compartment just up ahead, looking through the window. Inside sat the boy Mum and I had crossed at Borgin and Burkes, Draco Malfoy, and two much larger boys. Just as I had when meeting the blonde in Knockturn Alley, I was hit with a wave of familiarity, this time from all three boys. It was really weird.

The feeling was replaced really quickly by pain, however, as something slammed into me, knocking me into the wall. I collapsed in a heap, groaning, a splitting ache in my head. I faintly heard the door to the compartment open, and footsteps beside me as someone grabbed hold of my arms, hauling me to my feet. For a moment I thought the train had taken off to a rather disruptive start, but then he spoke. "That was rather rude of you, Pansy."

"She was in my way, Draco. Blocking the door to your compartment." I looked up, still disoriented, to see a girl larger and taller than me, with a crop of short black hair and a nasty grin on her lips, half-pouting. Following her gaze over my shoulder, I was surprised to see none other than Draco Malfoy keeping me steady.

"Perhaps she was interested in the compartment herself. Must say I can't blame her," he said, looking down at me then. He had a brilliant smile. I realized that what I had earlier thought were gray eyes were actually a pale shade of blue. I noted that I was rather close to him to be able to make this distinction, and could feel heat in my cheeks. "We weren't properly introduced the other day at the shop. I'm Draco."

One hand still on my arm, he held the other out to me to shake, and so I did. "Elena."

"Care to join us?" He smiled again. Brilliantly. "This is Crabbe and that's Goyle. And the lovely girl that was rude to you is P—"

"Pansy Parkinson. And no friend of yours," she spat at me, eyes narrowed. They flickered back up to Draco, gaining a brightness to them. "You realize she's Sinistra's daughter, right? I saw them board the train together. A teacher's kid is obviously going to be a snitch."

I scowled at her. "And you're obviously going to be a b—"

"Whoa, now, I'm sure we can all get along," Draco said, tugging on the arm he still held. "After all, we all have something in common, a parent interested in the _finer_ arts of magic." My mother's words came back to me then. _Lucius Malfoy is a slimy man, Elena, and I don't want him around my daughter._ I pulled away from his grasp, straightening.

"I'm sorry, but I've got to find my friend. Nice meeting you," I said, shoving past Pansy, who was taking up the majority of the bloody hallway, and away from them. "Not." I could year Pansy whining about me having pushed her, but I didn't care. I just wanted to find Hermione!

Honestly, was that too much to ask?

The compartment door ahead and to my right slid open as the train hit a sort of bump, and a toad leapt out. I had just enough time to move to the left wall as it hopped past to avoid the slimy creature. Cats, I liked. Owls too. But Toads? My least favorite of magical familiars. "Trevor?" a boy's voice called out from the compartment where the toad had escaped. "Where's he gone? Trevor? Trevor!"

How did he not notice it leapt out the bloody door? I stepped up to the compartment and stuck my head in. "Listen, I think your toad just passed me in the—Hermione!" There, sitting beside a plump boy in a fuzzy red sweater, was my best friend.

_I knew she'd be wearing her uniform already._

_

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_A/N: I'm going to have so much fun with the interactions between Pansy and Elena. There's more to come, so please, lemme know what you think. Reviewers get a preview of the next chapter. :)_  
_


	3. Toad Hunting

**_Chapter Three: Toad Hunting_**

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"Elena, this is Neville Longbottom, he's a first year, like us," Hermione smiled, standing up between me and the plump boy. "Neville, this is the girl I told you about. My best friend, Elena Sinistra."

"Professor Sinistra's daughter?" Neville gaped. "I read about her in our book on Hogwarts Teachers. You don't look like her."

_Like I need to be reminded?_ "So I've been told. So, the Toad in the hallway…"

"Trevor!" Neville leapt to his feet, suddenly remembering his toad had just run off. He dashed past us both and into the hall, looking up and down, confused. He turned back, his eyes finding mine. "He's gone!"

"We'll help you find him," Hermione said, cocking her head at me and smiling. "Won't we, Elena?" As always, volunteering me without consent. I nodded. "Right. We'll go left, you go right, okay Neville?"

"T-Thanks," he stuttered, shuffling off down the train, while Hermione grabbed me, headed the way I'd come earlier. She sticks her head into the next compartment to ask about Trevor, while I watch, counting the compartments I'd passed since that Parkinson girl had shoved me, so as to avoid theirs in particular.

When we arrived at theirs, I grabbed Hermione's hand, stopping her. "He won't be in there, trust me." She peered through the window, spotting Malfoy sitting inside, surrounded by the two boys and Pansy, laughing up a storm. "Who's that?"

"Draco Malfoy," I replied, pulling her past it for fear he'd look up and see me. Or worse, Parkinson would. My head was fine without making friends with the wall again, thanks. So we continued on, Hermione stopping at every compartment to ask about Trevor, but no one had seen the Toad.

It wasn't until she stopped in the doorway of a compartment containing a red-haired boy, a fair amount of candy, and _Harry Potter_ that I realized I'd retraced my steps almost all the way back to where Mum and Lightning were. The redhead was holding out his wand, pointing it at what appeared to be a rat in his lap. It was hard to tell, given that it's front half was buried in a box of Bertie Botts Every Flavored Beans. "Has anyone seen a toad? I boy named Neville's lost one."

"No," the redhead said through a mouthful of candy. I expected her to turn away then, but her eyes zeroed in on the wand he was holding and I couldn't help but chuckle. It drew Harry's attention, and I waved a little. He smiled back.

"Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see then." She stepped inside the compartment, sitting down across from Harry and the boy. She shot me a look and I followed, clearly not having a choice in the matter. Only Hermione.

"Ahem," the boy cleared his throat, glancing at Harry and gripping his wand tight. "Sunshine Daisies Butter Mellow, turn this stupid fat rat yellow." A tiny blast shot out of his wand and hit the rat's backside, blowing the box off its head.

Other than that, nothing happened. So Hermione let him have it.

"Are you sure that's a real spell? Well, it's not very good, it is? Of course, I've only tried a few simple ones myself, but they've all worked for me." She grinned, looking at me. This was true.

When we were little, after she and her parents found out they had a witch living next door in the form of my grandma, Maryanne Sinistra, and that the daughter and granddaughter that visited her often were _also_ witches, Hermione had taken on a love of magic. She wanted to be one so very badly, she'd always told me. We used to borrow Mum's wand when she wasn't looking and I'd show her a few things, and now and then she'd use it, too. I'd always thought the magic was in the wand, something leftover from me or Mum using it, allowing a tiny spell to be performed.

It wasn't until she got her letter that we realized the truth. Grandma had been right, it wasn't just the wand, it was the girl, and Merlin was Hermione ecstatic. I tuned back in just as Hermione demonstrated her knowledge, fixing Harry's broken glasses with a flick of her wand.

"That's better, isn't it?" She asked him as he took off the glasses, looking at the repair in awe. He put them back on and Hermione gasped.

"Holy cricket! You're Harry Potter!" she exclaimed, and he nodded, grinning sheepishly. "I'm Hermione Granger and this—"

"We've met, actually," I smiled, nodding my head towards Harry, who smiled. My eyes shifted to the redhead next, and I frowned. I think he'd been with the group of redheads earlier, the Weasleys my mother had pointed out. "And you're a Weasley, right?"

"Ron Weasley," he informed me through a mouthful of candy, causing Hermione to grimace.

"Pleasure," she said, wrinkling her nose and standing up. "You two better change into your robes. I expect we'll be arriving soon." And with that, she headed for the door, seemingly forgetting I was there, or assuming I'd follow. I looked to the boys, who were both wide-eyed, astonished by her rather abrupt behavior.

"Sorry about that," I grinned, standing. "She's a bit of a one-track mind, that one. A track that usually only involves her world, if you've noticed."

"Good to know you're not nearly as loony," Ron told me.

"You get used to her, quickly. It's quite endearing, really." I headed for the door then, but heard Harry call my name as I reached the edge of the compartment. He was smiling from his seat.

"Thanks again for earlier."

"Not a problem. After all, you're Harry Potter," I stated, causing a slight redness to ease into his cheeks. "See you at school."


	4. Sorting Ceremony

**Chapter Four: The Sorting Ceremony**

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"I can't believe we couldn't find Trevor," Neville stated for what must have been the millionth time as we disembark from the little boats we crossed the Black Lake in. All First Years have to do it, as apparently its tradition. I'm not sure why, but I'm sure Hermione will have read about it. "My grandmother's going to kill me. I can't believe I lost him the first day!"

_I can't believe you never shut up_. I shot Hermione an exasperated look, silently asking why in the world she'd befriended such a whiny individual. He was nice, sure, but rather awkward and forgot things often. Not to mention never stopped blabbering. Hermione, however, didn't seem to mind him, at all. This made sense, because her sometimes overbearing knowledge and perfection made up for his lack of…everything, really.

By the time we made it into the school, Neville had fallen silent, admiring the great fortress that is Hogwarts like the rest of us First Years. Despite being the daughter of one of its teacher, I'd never been to Hogwarts before this. I'd visited Hogsmeade with my grandma on weekends during previous school years before, where Mum had met up with us, but I'd never been on the actual grounds before. I found it beautiful. The high ceilings, the huge stone pillars and archways, the great wooden door to what I assumed was the dungeons, and the long marble steps atop which stood a woman draped in ornate green robes, her nails tapping on the railing.

The group of First Years stopped beneath her on the steps, waiting, and I peered past Hermione and Neville, who were in front of me, to get a better look at her. She was tall and thin, her face stern, with her gray hair tucked up into a tall black witch's hat. Clutching a rolled parchment in her hand, she studied us all, as if she could determine right then and there which students would be trouble, and which she would favor. She probably could.

As we all hushed and looked up at her, watching the fire of the torches that lit the hall illuminate her features, I searched the crowd of students for familiar faces. I found Harry and Ron quickly enough; after all, the latter was a Weasley. That bright red hair was rather easy to pick out. Unfortunately, I also spotted Draco leaning against the railing, alongside Crabbe and Goyle, and met his blue eyes, quickly looking away when I did. _Had he been watching me?_ The woman at the top of the stairs began talking, drowning out any further thoughts.

"Welcome to Hogwarts. My name is Professor McGonagall, teacher of Transfiguration, a class I'm sure I'll have the pleasure of teaching you all," she smiled, and I found it contagious. "In a few moments you will pass through these doors and join your classmates. But before you take your seats, you must be sorted into your houses. They are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin."

I could see several students in the group whispering to friends beside them, probably trying to judge what houses they'd be in. Hermione looked back at me, smiling, and it was the movement of her head that allowed me to see the step at McGonagall's feet—where a large Toad sat. _No way…_ As McGonagall continued on, explaining the points system that governed day-to-day rules and lifestyles at Hogwarts between the four Houses, I nudged Neville. He looked back, confused, and I stared pointedly to McGonagall's feet, hoping he'd follow my gaze.

"At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup—"

"Trevor!" he cried, leaping forward. Clearly, it worked. He grabbed the Toad and stood up proudly before realizing McGonagall was drilling him with a stare for having interrupted her. "S-Sorry." He stumbled back to Hermione and I, bowing his head.

"The Sorting Ceremony will began momentarily," McGonagall told us, clearly finished with her speech as she left us standing on the stairs, walking towards a large set of doors behind which the buzz of many voices were coming.

"You couldn't have waited until she was finished?" I asked the boy, who looked sheepish.

"I was just so excited. I thought I'd really lost—" My eyes darted to movement to our left, and I spotted Malfoy and the two large boys pushing through some students to stand by the railing just near Harry and Ron. He was grinning mischievously, and I shushed Neville, pointing. "That can't be good."

"So it's true then, what they're saying on the train," he sneered, looking directly at Harry. "Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts." A ripple of the boy's name cut through the crowd and I groaned. This is just what I'd tried to avoid on the train with the twins. "This is Crabbe, and Goyle. And I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."

I heard Ron let out a small laugh and watched as Malfoy's face contorted in annoyance. "You think my name is funny, do you?" he spat. "No need to ask yours. Red hair and a hand-me-down robe? You _must_ be a Weasley." He turned to Harry again, head held high. "You'll soon find out that some wizarding families are better than others, Potter. You don't want to be making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there." He held out his hand, grinning, but it wasn't the brilliant smile I'd seen on the train. This one was far more mischievous and cunning.

Suddenly, I was starting to see why Mum didn't like his father. Harry studied him for a moment, and then glanced at Ron. The redhead looked furious with Draco, but wounded by his words, and Harry seemed to make a decision. "I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks." Affronted, Draco stepped back, glaring at Harry and his hand very slowly reached for his wand.

He never made it, however, as McGonagall reappeared then, smiling. "We're ready for you. Follow me." As one we followed her up the stairs and towards the great wooden doors she'd vanished through previously. The grand room behind was massive, with huge glass windows and a ceiling high that…well; I hoped it was a ceiling. To me it looked just like the night sky, actually.

"It's not really the ceiling. It's just bewitched to look like the night outside," Hermione leaned over and whispered to me. The girl always had the best timing. "I read about it in _Hogwarts; a History_."

We passed between the long tables filled with students; I noticed they all wore different colored ties. Red and yellow to our right, blue then green to our left. McGonagall spoke then, asking us to come to a halt and introducing Professor Dumbledore, but all I could hear were the words she'd spoken earlier about the houses. _They are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. While you're here they will be like your family._

"I have a few start-of-term notices I wish to announce," Professor Dumbledore began, stepping up to the front of the teacher's platform, his arms wide to welcome us all. "The First Years please note, that the Dark Forest is strictly forbidden to all students. Also, our caretaker, Mr. Filch, has asked me to remind you that the third floor corridor on the right hand side is out of bounds to all who do not wish to die a most painful death. Thank you."

"Well that was cheerful," I muttered, while McGonagall brought forth a very old and tattered hat and sat it upon a single stool. "What is that?"

"The Sorting Hat," Hermione smiled, awed. "They say it's been around since the four founders made Hogwarts, and it uses the values they chose for their separate houses to determine what student goes where. I—"

"Read about it, I figured," I laughed, just as McGonagall explained how she would call us alphabetically, place the hat on our heads, and it would tell us which House would be ours for the next seven years. I suddenly felt oddly nervous.

I spun to Hermione and opened my mouth, but the hat interrupted me as it began to _sing_. To SING! A hat!

_Oh, you may not think I'm pretty, _

_But don't judge on what you see, _

_I'll eat myself if you can find,_

_A smarter hat then me._

_You can keep your bowlers black,_

_You top hats sleek and tall,_

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat,_

_And I can cap them all._

_There's nothing hidden in your head, _

_The Sorting Hat can't see,_

_So try me on and I will tell you,_

_Where you ought to be._

Despite the fact that the novelty of a hat singing was really entertaining, butterflies rose in my stomach as it continued on.

_You might belong in Gryffindor, _

_Where dwell the brace at heart,_

_Their daring, nerve and chivalry set Gryffindors apart;_

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true and unafraid of toil;_

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_If you've a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin,_

_You'll make your real friends,_

_Those cunning folk use any means,_

_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

_And don't get in a flap!_

_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I'm a Thinking Cap!"_

My eyes searched our group of First Years while the large room applauded. Neville was still nearby, as well as Ron and Harry, who'd moved closer during the walk into the hall.

I felt Hermione squeeze my hand as everyone quieted down. I glanced at her to find she was just as nervous as I, by the looks of it. _This is it_. As a blonde girl named Hannah Abbott made her way to the stage, Hermione spoke.

"It doesn't matter what house we're in, even if they're different, right?" she asked, eyes bright. "I'm thinking Ravenclaw, I'm sure it'd be brilliant. But I think Gryffindor sounds great too. You?"

"I don't know Hermione," I admitted as Susan Bones became Hufflepuff, and Terry Boot joined Ravenclaw. I was a little glad my name was so very far on the list, but I was sure minutes from now I wouldn't feel the same. I'd want it to be over with to calm my nerves. Lavender Brown to Gryffindor. Millicent Bulstrode to Slytherin.

"We'll still be best friends, right?" Hermione pressed, squeezing my hand harder, her eyes pleading. I grinned, ignoring my nerves. Vincent Crabbe and Tracey Davis to Slytherin. Justin Finch-Fletchley to Hufflepuff.

"Of course," I nodded. Seamus Finnigan to Gryffindor. Butterflies soared through my stomach almost to my throat. Gregory Goyle to Slytherin.

It was almost time for—"Hermione Granger!"

She squeezed my hand one final time, her breathing suddenly uneven. "Oh, no. Okay, relax."

"You'll be great," I told her, letting go of her hand and pushing her along, nudging her towards the platform. She kept telling herself it was alright, and nearby, I heard Ron whisper to Harry that she was mental. _Hah. If only they knew._

"Ah, right then," the Sorting Hat hummed, sitting on my best friend's head. "Hm. Right. Okay…GRYFFINDOR!"

Hermione hopped up from her seat, a wide grin breaking out across her lips. The Gryffindor table to our right exploded with cheers as she bounced off stage, headed for the table. As she passed me, her smile widened, and my nerves lessened. She'd gotten a great House, which meant surely I would too, right?

I only had to wait.

Daphne Greengrass: Slytherin. Neville Longbottom: Gryffindor. Ernie Macmillan: Hufflepuff.

Then she called Draco's name. I watched as the blonde boy proudly marched onto the stage and took a seat on the stool, his head held high. McGonagall lowered the hat, and it had barely touched his head before belting out the name Slytherin. While Draco stood, smirking, waltzing off the stage towards an applauding table, I heard Ron whisper to Harry again: "There's not a witch or wizarding who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin."

I felt I had to agree moments later when that nasty Pansy Parkinson was sorted into Slytherin as well. Hopefully I wouldn't have to cross her too often here—at least, not around too many walls.

Then, Harry was called and the whole room fell silent. Slowly, with encouragement from Ron, he walked up to the stool and took his seat, looking a tad sick. "Hmm, difficult, very difficult," the hat pondered aloud, clearly not helping Harry's nerves. "Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, oh yes, and a thirst to prove yourself. But where to put you…"

Harry seemed to be mouthing something repeatedly, but I couldn't quite see what from here.

"Not Slytherin eh? Are you sure? You could be great you know. It's all here in your head. And Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, there's no doubt about that." Still, Harry muttered the same thing under his breath, obviously pleading with the hat. I didn't blame him. "No? Well, if you're sure, better be…GYFFINDOR!"

The Gryffindor table exploded into cheers, even Professor Dumbledore applauded this choice. The more and more this went on, the more I wanted to be in Gryffindor. Clearly, it was shaping out to be the house of choice.

"Elena Sinistra!" I froze as McGonagall called my name. This was it. This was where I found out which of these four Houses would be my _family_. As I marched up onto the stage, my eyes found my real family—my mother. Seated at the table amongst other teachers, she smiled my way; proudly. I smiled back, not wanting to disappoint.

The Sinistra line had been nothing but Gryffindor and Ravenclaw for years. It made perfect sense, then, that one of these Houses would be mine in mere moments. Personally, though, I was leaning towards Gryffindor, since now my best friend resided there.

The fact that my mother had once, off-handedly, mentioned that Dad had been Slytherin didn't matter to me. Generations of good houses would flush out the one thing I could possibly inherit from him other than his looks. Because he'd left, and that was that.

Taking my seat, I found the eyes of everyone in the room were watching me. It really didn't help my nerves. So instead I focused on one pair in particular that I figured would help—Hermione. Meeting her eyes, I found her mouth the words "no matter what", smiling reassuringly.

But seconds later it faded into shock as the hat belted out its decision.

"SLYTHERIN!"

I didn't want to move. I didn't want to leave the stool, where my fingernails were digging into the wood, struggling to hold onto the comfort I'd felt in the seconds leading up to the hat's choice. I didn't want to believe this was real—rather, a dream. But McGonagall's hand touched my shoulder as she pulled the hat off with the other, and she whispered for me to move along. Slowly and hesitantly, I did; standing, and then putting one foot in front of the other down the steps.

I felt sick as I made my way to the Slytherin table—now _my_ table. I sat as far from the smirking Draco Malfoy as possible. Pansy sat beside him, probably having a fit that I'd been put in their house. _Slytherin. HOW had this happened?_

A thousand reasons ran through my head. They mostly all pointed to the father I knew nothing about. The father who had left. The father who Mr. Malfoy had been about to mention the other day in Knockturn Alley, I was sure.

Or maybe there was something wrong with me, hidden deep down, and I just didn't know it yet, but the Sorting Hat had found it. Perhaps I was here because I was bad. Hadn't Ron said people from Slytherin had all been evil witches and wizards?

_Oh Merlin…_ My eyes found my mother's at the teacher table again, and although her eyes spoke of her shock, her proud smile had not faltered. This should've reassured me, but the weight of my sorting was pressing against me from all sides, trying to crush me to death.

"Welcome to Slytherin," the girl across from me stated, smiling widely. She had blonde hair that fell in lush curls at the edge of her jaw line and shimmering blue eyes. It took me a moment to place her from the many students I'd seen sorted before me. Tracey…something, I recalled. Her hand touched mine ever so slightly as she held it out for me to shake. And I did. "Tracey Davis," she informed me. Davis. That was it.

"Elena Sinistra," I replied politely. Absently, I listened as the last few First Years were sorted. Zacharias Smith to Hufflepuff, Dean Thomas to Gryffindor, then Ron got Gryffindor and I could hear the table erupt in the cheers that I longed for. And finally, a dark-skinned student named Blaise Zabini, his head held high, marched over and sat next to me, joining Slytherin as the last student sorted.

Dumbledore declared the feast's beginning, and the plates before us filled with mounds of rich, warm and wonderful smelling food. Tracey began chatting away to me, telling me all sorts of things about the food and what she was looking forward to. She was trying to be my friend, I realized, but there was an ache in the pit of my stomach that prevented me from trying right now. An ache that caused me to look up and find that Hermione was watching me, the distance between our tables—our new "families" as McGonagall had called it—suffocating.

Suddenly, I didn't have much of an appetite.


	5. Slytherin

**Chapter Five: Slytherin**

* * *

Beneath the Black Lake, in the dark dungeons, deep beneath the school.

This is where I would be staying for the rest of my school years. Because Salazar Slytherin had thought it was a _wonderful_ place to put the common room and dormitories for his house. I begged to differ. The black leather couches, the lush green fabrics and the dark wooden furniture were really winning me over though, I had to say. The Common Room was beautiful despite its chilly temperature.

Leaving the little speech our Slytherin Prefect—Marcus Flint, I believe his name was?—had been giving to the First Years, I slipped away unnoticed, hoping to be the first to my dorm room to have a decent choice of bed. I was sure they were all the same, but I wanted the small comfort, at least, of choosing.

But apparently I hadn't been the only one to think of this. Sitting on the first bed to my right as I entered the room was the blonde girl with curly hair I had sat across from during dinner. Tracey Davis smiled up at me as I entered; closing the bag she'd been unpacking and tossing it to the floor in front of her dresser. "Hi," she grinned.

"Hi," I nodded, taking in my surroundings. Five four-poster beds were placed in a circle around the room, each draped with thick emerald green curtains and matching green sheet sets tucked in beneath the mattress. To the left of each bed stood a tall dresser of five drawers, and to the right, a chair, a small bedside table with lamp, and a small shelf on the wall. Everything was made of the same dark-colored wood as the furniture in the Common Room above us.

"Glad I got someone nice as a roommate," she told me, pushing her trunk into the space beneath her bed. I found mine sitting with three others in the middle of the room, covering a green and silver carpet. Sitting atop it was Lightning's carrier, and the sight of her brought a smile to my lips. But it quickly vanished as a vicious hissing erupted from the cage on one of the other trunks. Tracey spoke again. "Did that to me when I arrived, too."

"What is _that_?" I grimaced, peering into the cage at the cat. At least, I think it was a cat. It looked more like a hairy pig, really. Hairy albino pig.

I strode over, unlocking Lightning's cage swiftly and swinging the door open. She meowed once to thank me, and then hopped out, looking at the room around us. She gave the large cat in the other cage a quick glance, then made her way to the bed directly beside Tracey's and leapt up, padding around the bed for a few seconds. Content, she laid down, curling into a ball and resting her head on her paws.

"Guess I'm not picking my own bed then," I muttered, bending down to pick up my trunk. Unfortunately, thanks to an encouraging push from behind, my face connected with my trunk instead of my hands, and pain broke out in my nose. "Ow! Merlin's beard! What was—"

"What gives, Sinistra, can't keep your balance?"

"Cockroach," I muttered, finding my words a little wobbly. Fat lip by morning, I'd bet my entire collection of astronomy books on it.

"What was that?" Pansy sneered, walking around the room to the bed in the middle, sitting on the edge and grinning. As I pushed myself to my feet, I noticed two other girls had followed Pansy in—one far larger than Pansy, with greasy dark brown hair and a sullen expression, and a very thin girl, stick-like almost, with wavy dirty blonde locks. The larger girl was unlocking the other cat carrier and the fat cat hopped down, just barely keeping its balance.

"Nothing," I stated, grabbing hold of my trunk with one hand, using the other to make sure my nose wasn't bleeding as it ached rather fiercely. From the corner of my eye, I saw the worried look Tracey offered me, but there wasn't much to be done. My mother had always said the best way to deal with a bully was to ignore them and move on, not allowing them to see their antics bother you. I hadn't reacted on the train, and this would be no different.

Hoisting my trunk up onto my bed, I clicked it open, reaching for the first sweater to place in my drawers. The trunk slammed shut on my fingers and I swore.

"Tch. Quite a nasty mouth there, Sinistra," Pansy tsk-tsk-ed, hand on the top of my trunk as I pulled mine out, ignoring how they throbbed. "Clearly you're ignoring me and trying to prove you're better but you listen up, alright? Just because you're Professor Sinistra's daughter, don't expect special treatment. Draco may have thought you had something, but your Sorting into Slytherin is a fluke."

"Glad to know I'm not the only one who thinks so," I admitted, and she narrowed her eyes at me. Clearly even agreeing with her was the wrong way to go about this.

"You stay away outta my way, away from Draco, and we'll get along just fine, okay?" Pansy grinned, leaning forward. Her breath was horrible.

"Mutual avoidance," I stated. "You don't bother me, I won't bother you. Simple as that."

She waltzed away to decide amongst the other three beds with the two girls I quickly overheard were Millicent Bulstrode and Daphne Greengrass right after, leaving me to unpack. I glanced to my left to see Tracey's worried look again. Clearly she hadn't been expecting this sort of animosity.

And somehow, I couldn't help but think it was only the beginning.

* * *

I was growing really tired of Pansy's snickering. Fast.

As I walked into my first Potions class, I spotted Hermione occupying a desk all on her own, her little black cauldron on the table before her. Nearby sat Ron and Harry, sharing a table. I figured there was no harm in sitting with my friend and some people I knew.

But as I sat down next to Hermione, who offered me a cheerful smile, I learned otherwise. A loud snicker erupted behind me, but I refrained from turning, knowing who it was. "Did you forget what house you're in already, Sinistra?"

"No," I stated, staring ahead, refusing to give her the satisfaction of turning around and showing the anger she was building.

"Then perhaps you're colour-blind, because that's a Gryffindor you're sitting beside, you know."

"I'm not blind, Pansy, I can see that. And she's my friend. Her name's Hermione."

"Listen to her, telling me like I'd stupid," she told someone, and judging by the snorting-laughter accompanied by high-pitched giggling, I guessed it was Millicent and Daphne. She didn't say anything else after, nothing to fight back, so I relaxed, shooting Hermione a withering look.

"Don't worry about it," she smiled, patting my hand. "It's only the first week. It'll get better."

"Or it'll get worse," I countered. "It's bad enough already. That cow's excuse for a cat keeps bullying Lightning whenever it thinks I'm not looking, they keep hexing my bed sheets so they strangle me awake in the morning, and I keep finding my belongings in different areas of the Common Room I have _not_ been.

"It can't be all bad, Elena."

"At least Tracey's nice. Lightning likes her."

"There you go."

"Does nothing to help the cockroach and her sidekicks, though. Honestly, why couldn't I have been sorted with you?"

"We knew it could happen. We knew we could get different houses."

"Yes, but _Slytherin_?"

"I would dock you points for speaking so foully about my house were you not _in it_, Miss Sinistra," a stern voice told me, just behind us and I nearly jumped in my seat. I looked back to see a tall man in black robes, with long hair just as black. Professor Snape.

"I-I'm sorry, Professor, I—"

He walked away, towards the front of the class, not even waiting for me to finish. Sighing, I pulled my Potions textbook from my bag as he began to speak to the class. Hermione grabbed her quill from her ink bottle and a piece of parchment and began scribbling away. It wasn't long before Professor Snape started picking on Harry, who had only been taking notes on the things he would teach us, but was called upon for not paying attention.

I was amazed when Hermione's free hand shot up to answer the question he'd given Harry, yet the other remained in place with the quill to finish her note. As Snape asked him a second question and she wiggled her hand in the air again, she slid the parchment over.

_We may be in different houses, but that doesn't mean we can't talk after classes. Velox Vox, remember?_

Ah, yes, the small communication spell my grandmother had taught us when we were younger. While Hermione had never had a wand to test it with, I'd borrowed my grandmother's whenever we were stuck in our houses, unable to meet up, and so long as it was only a few words, the spell would transmit my message directly to her, even across the two houses. When we'd gotten our letters, I'd taught her how to do it, and we'd spent the last couple weeks practicing before school.

Hopefully it could reach her from down in the bloody dungeons.

* * *

We had survived our first Potions class with Professor Snape. Although he'd skillfully ignored Hermione whenever she'd known an answer to one of his questions (which was pretty much all the time), he'd given me a few chances, which was surprising given his attitude at first. I had also noticed he had quickly begun to favor Draco, and unlike the rest of us, used his first name.

Clearly, they were acquainted, if the proud smirk on Draco's face said anything every time Professor Snape called upon him for something. "Coming?" Hermione called me, and I looked up to see she already had her things packed, while half of mine were on the desk and I stood there, lost in thought.

"Sorry," I grinned sheepishly, shoving the rest of my books into my bag and slinging it over my shoulder. We had lunch next, which meant I'd have all the time to talk with her without Pansy and her goons to—

"Miss Sinistra, if you please," Professor Snape called from his desk, and I froze. He was watching us, black eyes shifting between me and Hermione, his expression unreadable. I looked from him and back to Hermione, uneasy. "Miss Granger may go. It will only be a minute."

"O-Okay," Hermione nodded, offering me a small shrug and slowly making for the door. I marched to his desk sluggishly, trying to place a smile on my lips that didn't look too nervous.

"Yes, sir?"

"When the Sorting Hat chooses one of the four houses for a First Year to be placed in, it does so based, not upon wants or needs, but upon inner thoughts, values, and what is within your heart, knowing that the particular student it is sorting truly belongs and is meant to be in the house it will give them. The house where they will make the most of their skills, talents and their lives, and master their futures."

"So it was me then," I nodded slowly. "It's my fault."

"You act as though this is a punishment. If the Sorting Hat believed you would benefit the most from Slytherin, and that my house is the one in which you would create your future, then that is the truth. It is no one's _fault_." He eyed me steadily, tapping on the edge of the top desk drawer to his right. "Aurora has told you what house your father was in, correct?"

It was a little weird to hear him call her by her first name. Most of the other teachers I'd talked to since yesterday had referred to her as "Professor Sinistra", trying not to act like they were speaking to her daughter. The only other one who hadn't was Professor McGonagall, and Mum had said this was because she'd known her for a long time, had been Mum's teacher, and had even been to school with grandma.

Did this mean Professor Snape knew her well enough too?

"Elena," Professor Snape called, clearly not for the first time, judging by the underlying edge in his voice. I had probably tuned him out, lost in my thoughts. Again.

Time to focus. What was the question?

"What? I mean, yes. Yes, she has," I nodded quickly, remembering he'd been asking about dad's house. "She told me he was in Slytherin. It's one of the few things I know about him."

"Yes, well, that will happen when one is involved…," he trailed off, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing. "Nevermind. My point is, the Sorting Hat chose to follow that one path out of the many others set out for you by your mother's side of the family."

"Gryffindor and Ravenclaw," I nodded. Then his words began to make sense. "Which means that the very slim possibility won out for Slytherin, because this is where I'm meant to be, right?"

"That is for you to decide for yourself," he answered, waving a hand towards the door. "Off you go."

"Thank you, Professor," I dipped my head quickly before hurriedly exiting the classroom. I wasn't sure how to feel about the conversation I'd just had, with Snape mentioning my father like that, and clearly knowing something about him, as he'd stopped himself from continuing.

It gave me chills. Because, Merlin, my father was still very much a mystery to me.

* * *

A/N: Velox Vox is Latin for "quick word"


	6. Seeking Trouble

A/N: Thank you everyone for the wonderful reviews, hopefully soon I can get around to replying to reviews when they happen, and even sending a preview of the next chapter. More reason to review!

**

* * *

Chapter Six: Seeking Trouble**

* * *

I sat in my seat, pushing my eggs around my plate as I'd been doing all breakfast. Tracey sat across from me, her plate finished, her fingers tapping on the table with impatience. "Elena," she called, and I looked up to meet her frown. "You haven't touched your food even a little."

"Of course I have."

"You moved them around to look like you'd had some. Don't be silly, I'm not blind," she paused, sighing. "Is something wrong?"

"I'd rather not eat before our first Flying lesson, Tracey. I'm not so good with heights, and I'd much rather not be sick."

"You won't be. I've heard we only hover for a few minutes on the first lesson. You'll be—"

A small explosion behind me caught our attention, and I turned to see that two tables over, a Gryffindor boy was covered in ashes and soot, his hair sticking out at all angles, a wand in his hand. He blinked a few times while the others around him laughed. "Who's he?"

"Seamus Finnigan," Tracey explained. "Apparently the boy's got a rather _explosive_ talent for magic. Yesterday he blew up a glass of water he'd turned into tea. I guess today he was trying to make something else."

"Pity," I nodded, but my eyes hadn't left the boy.

* * *

"Good afternoon, class," a tall woman with grey hair and piercing yellow eyes smiled as she stood before us. We stood in two rows, facing one another, each of us beside a broom. My insides were all knotted. This was not going to be pleasant.

"Good afternoon, Madam Hooch," we replied in unison.

"Welcome to your first flying lesson. Well, what are you waiting for? Everyone step up to the left side of their broomstick. Come on now, hurry up."

I could feel my knees begging to wobble as I made my way to the left side of my broom, staring down at it. To my right stood Hermione, a pleasant smile on her face, probably hoping to excel in yet another class. Honeslty, she'd been beating me in everything except my mother's class of Astronomy, and surprisingly, Defense Against the Dark Arts with Professor Quirrell.

Not that I was surprised she was top in our class, mind you.

"Stick your right hand over the broom and say _up_."

Following Madam Hooch's instructions, my right hand hovered above the broom, and as calmly as I could, I called for it. "Up!"

Nothing happened.

Beside Hermione, Harry's broom shot up into his hand, the first of the whole class. She looked at him incredulously. "Up!" she demanded of her broom, glaring down at it.

"Up!" to my left, Tracey's broom rose into her hand a little slowly, and she smiled. Mine still lay on the ground, not even moving, unlike Hermione's which seemed to be throwing a fit, rolling around on the grass, lifting off ever so slightly.

"Up!" she snapped. "_Up_!"

"Up!" I heard Ron call to my right, past Hermione and Harry, and I watched as the broom shot up—smacking him right in the nose. His hands flew to cover it and Harry laughed. "Shut up Harry."

Denying the urge to laugh, I closed my eyes and focused, picturing nothing but the broom beneath my hand. "Up!" Wood filled my hand, and I smiled. Opening my eyes, I found the broom now in my possession. The knots in my stomach increased and the smile fell from my lips.

Around me, the other students had gotten their brooms up, including Hermione, finally, who looked rather frustrated. I couldn't blame her. Madam Hooch spoke up again, telling us to mount our brooms. Working against the slight shake of my hands, I did. "When I blow my whistle, I want each of you to kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your broom steady, hover for a moment, then lean forward slightly and touch back down. On my whistle." Madam Hooch brought the silver whistle to her lips, counting. "Three, two—"

Far to my right, a boy shot up on his broom far too early, wobbling. It was Neville, the boy who Hermione and I had helped look for his lost toad on the train. "Mr. Longbottom," Madam Hooch called, taking a step towards him. "Mr…Mr. Longbottom!"

"Down!" a few of the students called, and I exchanged worried looks with Hermione. What _was_ the boy doing? "Neville!"

"Help!" he cried, gripping his broom tight, looking at the ground that was slowly drifting further away. "Help!"

"Come back down this instant!" Madam Hooch yelled, but it was evident he had no control of the broom. It shot away with him, towards the castle, and she called after him. We crowded together, watching him, and from behind me, I heard a familiar snicker. I turned to see Pansy standing with Draco, Goyle and Crabbe, smirking. I swear, if they were doing this…

The yells of the other students stopped me from asking them, and I turned back to see Neville hanging from a statue's sword, fairly high off the ground. A loud ripping sound echoed in the clearing as his robe broke and he fell, yelping as he hit the ground.

Madam Hooch yelled for us to move, pushing through to reach the plump boy. Hermione was at my side again, worried. "Is he alright?" He whimpered as the teacher helped him up, cradling his wrist. Again he let out a yelp of pain.

"Oh, dear, it's a broken wrist," Madam Hooch sighed. "Poor boy. Come on now, up you get." She helped him stand, offering him support and looked at the rest of us, standing around holding onto our brooms. She began barking out instructions to stay put and how we'd be in grave trouble otherwise, but I wasn't paying attention.

My eyes were drawn to Draco, who leaned down to pick up a small clear ball swirling with grey smoke, a gold ring around its middle. I recognized it because my mother had one that grandma had given her years ago so as to never forget any assignments. A Rememberall. Judging from the smirk on his face, it clearly wasn't his. "Draco…that's not yours."

He looked up at the sound of my voice, and the other students turned to see his grin widen. "Course not, it's Lardbottom's. Did you see his face? If the fat lump had given this a squeeze, maybe he would've remembered to fall on his fat arse."

I opened my mouth to tell him off, but Harry stepped forward and beat me to it, knuckles white he was gripping his broom so tight, clearly upset. "Give it here, Malfoy."

"No," he grinned. "I think I'll leave it somewhere for Lardbottom to find." In a swift motion he was on his broom, kicking off. "How about on the roof?" Harry glared up at him, as did several other students. "What's the matter, Potter? Bit beyond your reach?"

In response, Harry grabbed his broom, mounting it. Hermione stepped past me, touching Harry's arm in distress. "Harry, no way! You heard what Madam Hooch said. Besides, it may be in your blood, but you don't even know how to fly!"

He kicked off, ignoring her. "What. An. Idiot."

"Hermione," I frowned, and she turned to face me, scowling. "What did you mean, it's in his blood?" Her scowl quickly changed to a smile. The one she tended to wear when she knew an answer to a question no one else did.

"I'll show you after class, in the Trophy Room," she told me, just as the other students erupted in cheers. We looked up to see Harry floating down to us, holding the Rememberall above his head like a prize. While the majority of the students flocked to him, congratulating his wicked performance, my attention drifted the other way, towards a small group of Slytherins with Draco, who'd just touched down again.

His blue eyes found mine, challenging.

* * *

As soon as Madam Hooch had returned to dismiss us, Hermione had taken me to the Trophy Room on the Third Floor. Huge pillars were scattered around the room, large crystal cases at their base, filled with trophies of gold, silver or bronze colour. Shelves all around the room displayed cups, plates, shields and medals won by various students over the years. And there, right in the middle amongst the Quidditch trophies and medals, sat a plaque with James Potter on it, the title SEEKER printed in golden letters above it, and the date beneath it.

And now here Hermione and I sat in the courtyard roughly an hour later, having heard that McGonagall had gone and made Harry Potter the new Gryffindor Seeker. "It really is in his blood," Hermione shrugged.

"But Seeker? A First Year? He must be—"

"The youngest in a century," Hermione nodded. Naturally, she'd know. Just then, Ron's loud voice reached our ears.

"Oh go on, Harry! Quidditch is great! Best game there is, and you'll be great too!" We looked up to see him and Harry walking past, the latter looking nervous.

"But I've never even played Quidditch! Never heard of it before today!" Harry protested, and I smiled at Hermione.

"He doesn't know, does he? About his father?" It took us only a second before we were on our feet; rushing over to the boys just as Harry told Ron he was going to make a fool of himself.

"You won't make a fool of yourself," Hermione stated, and they stopped, turning to face us. "It's in your blood."

We brought them to the Trophy Room and showed them James' plaque. Eyes wide, Harry stared. Ron's mouth fell open. "Whoa…Harry, you never told me your father was a Seeker too!"

"Evidently he didn't know," I pointed out, and Harry nodded slowly, still fixated on the plaque.

"Potter doesn't know much, does he?" a snide voice remarked, and we turned to see Draco standing in the doorway, Crabbe and Goyle towering behind him.

"Knew enough to best you on a broomstick, Malfoy," Harry countered, and Draco scowled.

"You wouldn't know enough face-to-face, I bet."

"Care to test that theory?"

I watched Draco's hands ball into fists, the scowl on his face intensifying. He expected Harry to take his taunting and name-calling and not fight back, much as I'd been doing with Pansy this week. But unlike me, Harry was pushing right back, determined not to let Draco win.

"Sure. Tonight, if you want. Wizard's Duel. You _do_ know what a Wizard's Duel is, right Potter?" He sneered.

"Of course he does," Ron snapped. "I'm his second, who's yours?"

For a single moment, Draco's eyes found mine, and I feared he'd name me. A silly fear, really. It's not like he would. But his gaze spun to Crabbe and Goyle, sizing them up. "Crabbe," he said, and the large boy grinned. He turned back to Harry, smirking. "Midnight all right? We'll meet you here. It's always unlocked."

Before the boys could respond, he spun on his heel and fled from the room, Crabbe and Goyle lumbering after him. Harry turned to Ron, frowning. "What the heck is a Wizard's Duel, and what do you mean, you're my second?

"Well, a second's there to take over if you die," Ron said casually, and Hermione and I groaned as Harry's eyes widened. This wasn't helping.

"That only happens in real serious duels, you know, proper ones with real wizards," I said, trying to make Ron's damage better. "Neither of you know enough magic to do any real harm. Send colorful sparks at one another is the most you'll do, I bet. You'll be fine. I bet Draco expected you to say no, anyway."

"Guess I have Ron to thank for that," Harry said, and Ron grinned sheepishly.

"He was being a git. Don't know how you stand living around him, Elena."

"He's not all bad," I shrugged, remembering how he'd helped me on the train with Pansy. Hermione's shrill voice interrupted us all.

"Listen to you three! You're talking about this so casually, as if it's not the stupidest thing you've ever thought of! It's worse than disobeying Madam Hooch's orders."

"And that turned out bad, didn't it," Ron rolled his eyes, his sarcasm evident.

"No, but this will! You'll be breaking a big rule, wandering around the school at night. Think of the points you'll lose Gryffindor if you're caught, and you're bound to be. Imagine the damage you'll do to this room, with the lack of control you and Malfoy are bound to have over your spells."

"Thanks for the encouragement," Harry stated.

"Oh, and I'm sure you'd do so much better, right?" Ron scoffed. "With your _vast_ knowledge of spells and whatnot? You'd probably get us here and back without being caught, and give Harry _all sorts_ of useful advice for his duel, wouldn't you? Please."

Hermione's scowl faded as her face lit up the way it usually did when she came up with a plan. I groaned. "Oh, now you've done it."

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I would," she nodded fiercely. "Which is why I'll be accompanying you."

"You will _not_!" Ron exclaimed. "You'll only get us caught, with all your complaining. Elena's the only one who ever manages to keep you quiet." His eyes widened when he realized this implication and he shot me a sheepish grin.

"I'm going and that's final," Hermione glared, and I knew, then, that I was too. Because there was never any changing her mind once she was as set on something as she was now.

"I'll meet you guys here at midnight," I sighed, shaking my head.

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Review = Preview. That is all. Much love!


	7. Midnight Loyalties

**Chapter Seven: Midnight Loyalties**

* * *

It was half past eleven when I finally heard Draco come up into the Common Room. The flames in the fireplace were all but dying embers at this point, allowing me enough shadow to sit in one of the armchairs, undetected this whole time. It had taken some effort to win out against sleep, sitting in the warmth of the fire, especially since Tracey had been so reluctant to leave me. But I'd convinced her in order to sneak out.

I waited until I heard the statue that was our front door slide back into place, indicating he'd left, before I got up and followed. Slipping out past the same statue, I caught sight of his blonde head headed for the stairs to the main floor. Quickly, I followed, treading lightly, worried that any echoing of my running shoes against the stone floor would alert not any teachers on duty, but Draco himself. Worried he might seek me out if he knew he was being followed. A confrontation I whole-heartedly wanted to avoid, thank you.

I reached the top of the steps from the dungeons and spotted him halfway up stairs leading to the First Floor, his blonde hair the only thing that was giving him away in the near-darkness of the torch-lit main hall. I squinted, needing a more clear look at him, wanting to know if I'd seen right.

Curious. It looked like he was still wearing green pajamas. I assumed he'd of proudly worn his Slytherin robes to his duel, or even changed into regular clothes so that he and Crabbe looked presentable before—

Hang on… Where was Crabbe? I looked around, sending a furtive glance over my shoulder, fearing that he might've told him to leave a little later than himself to make sure no one followed. I nearly panicked at the thought of the large boy looming over me, caught. But he was nowhere to be seen. Not anywhere in the staircase behind me or what I could see of the dungeons below.

I turned back, noticing Draco was already at the top of the visible stairs, turning towards the steps that would lead him to the First Floor, and I hurried to follow, trying to keep to the shadows and away from the torches as often as possible. I crept up the steps, and frowned about the absence of Crabbe. I found that this was rather strange. Where was his second? Things simply weren't adding up. I mean, sure, I hadn't known him long, but what I did know was that he had seemed quite pleased with himself taunting Harry about superiority earlier that day. He had seemed rather upset when losing an advantage, and in the end, had seemed rather gleeful, boasting about being better than Harry in this upcoming duel.

It was annoying, really. He'd spent all afternoon in the Common Room, lounging on a sofa with Pansy and his two goons, gloating about how Potter was going down, about the look on his stupid face, and many more nasty things I had cut off by leaving the Common Room to do work in my room instead. Hearing him talk, it was hard to imagine the boy who had helped me up on the train and told Pansy to back off.

I was at the base of the steps to the Second Floor, watching his gelled-back blond head as he reached the top and smoothed out a part of his green shirt. Why was he wandering around in pajamas instead of something fit to duel in? Honestly, at the moment he looked like a sleep-walking student rather than…

And then it hit me as he took a left down a corridor on the Second Floor instead of going up the stairs towards the Third Floor and the Trophy Room. There was only one thing down at the end of this corridor—Filch's office._ No way…he wouldn't…_

But he would, wouldn't he? _That_ added up, at least.

He'd been lying all along! He'd never planned to duel Harry and Ron, never planned to stick it to them that he was better or not, never even planned to show his face. That's why he'd been so confident striking up the deal with Ron, who'd played right into his hand. That's why he'd been gloating about it all afternoon. If I'd stuck around to listen instead of retreating to my room, I'd bet any money that I'd of heard the whole plan, too, and could have avoided this. He'd only ever intended to get them into trouble and lose them points, just as Hermione had said.

It was a horrible way to prove you were better than someone, but I was starting to see Draco was quite good at horrible things. I looked down the corridor, but couldn't see him anymore. He must've gone into Filch's office already, which meant I had only a few moments before the caretaker came out and caught me, too. Thinking quickly, I decided some of us could avoid problems this evening.

Whipping out my wand, I pictured Hermione in my head and pointed the tip to my mouth so it caught my words. "_Velox Vox._ Hermione, it's a trap." The tip of my wand glowed green, and a small bubble of light popped off the end, flashed in the air before me for only a moment, then sped off the way I'd come. Funny, the bubble used to be white when we practiced over the summer…

"What are you doing?"

The only thing that kept me the slightest bit calm was that that was _not_ Filch's voice. The fact that it was Draco's, however, didn't help me much, really. Slowly, I turned, meeting his blue-gray eyes. "Sleep-walking."

"In your clothes?" he countered, before looking over his shoulder a tad worriedly. He grabbed my wrist, dragging me towards a painting hanging on the wall, and pushing it aside. He pulled me inside, letting it fall shut behind us. For a moment I thought it would be one of Hogwarts's many secret passageways, but noticed it was only a few feet long—a dead end. I swallowed, audibly; a number of scenarios of what this portrait-hole had been used for skittering through my mind. None of them I wanted to experience with the boy still holding my wrist, thanks.

"What are you—"

"Shh!" he snapped, peeking out around the painting and watching something in the hall. I heard the sound of someone shuffling past, muttering and mumbling. When a cat's meow replied, I knew it was Filch and Mrs. Norris. I snickered. _Draco must've anonymously told him about Harry and the others. What a rat._ Moments later, I assumed Filch turned the corner and we were sufficiently safe again, Draco rounded on me, glaring. "Liar."

"Excuse me?"

"You don't sleep walk at this time of night in your clothes." He stepped closer, smirking. "Were you following me, Elena?"

"Hardly," I scoffed, pulling my wrist away from him. I could feel my cheeks involuntarily heat up as he leaned closer. It had nothing to do with him, I'll assure you, but the fact that he was far too close in my personal space. His smirk was unnerving.

"Then why did I hear the Slytherin Statue open moments after I left?"

"I thought you were too far ahead to—" he broke into laughter, and I felt my cheeks flush even more when I realized he wasn't serious, merely trying to see if I would admit it. Which I did. I scowled as he raised an eyebrow.

"And here I was, thinking you had no interest in me."

"I don't," I assured him. "I was simply headed to the same place you were." And just like that, his smirk fell, replaced by a scowl of his own.

"Of course," he sneered, taking a step back to look at me, his eyes now narrowed and accusing. "You came for Potter and his stupid little duel, didn't you?"

"Isn't it _your_ stupid duel?" I grinned as his eyes narrowed even more. Oops. "And besides, I didn't come for Harry. I came for my best friend, Hermione, who just so happened to be tagging along to make sure they didn't get in trouble. Good thing, too, because—" I stopped myself, hand flying to my mouth. He couldn't know about what I'd done. He couldn't know I'd foiled his plans. He'd only be more upset with me. And I'm not sure I wanted him to be. He raised an inquisitive eyebrow and I shook my head. "Nothing."

"You know, I don't understand why you hang around their sort. Those _Gryffindors_." The way he said it made it sound like it's a disease. I could remember my nervousness during the Sorting Ceremony, my desire to be chosen for Gryffindor. They were definitely _not_ a disease. "Weasley's not that bright. Potter's too busy being a celebrity to actually know anything. And Granger's, well, she's a M—"

It was my turn to narrow my eyes at him. "Draco, of course you don't understand why I spend my time with my _friends_—because you don't have any. The only reason you have a problem with it isn't because they happen to be in Gryffindor; it's because you're jealous." His eyes widened, allowing me to see I'd actually caught him off-guard. And it allowed me a window of opportunity to turn away from him just as a small spark of red energy burst into the portrait-hole. Hermione's voice filled the small corridor a moment. _Filch avoided. Thanks_. It popped out of existence. Ironic, during the summer, hers had been white too…

I could feel Draco's piercing gaze boring into the back of my head. He took a step toward me, and grabbed my arm. "Elena." I pulled away, making for the entrance, not daring to turn around. I knew he wasn't stupid. Even if he wasn't familiar with Hermione, he could probably guess that was her voice—not to mention they'd be the only people informing me about avoiding Filch.

"You may want to hurry if you want to make it down to the dungeons before Filch comes back," I told him, slipping out of the portrait-hole. I heard it move again seconds later and knew he wasn't far behind me.

I only made it down to the First Floor before he grabbed my arm and spun me into an alcove. For a moment I thought he planned to be angry with me and I struggled, but he held me there in the shadows quite firmly. I noticed Professor Flitwick pass by, humming to himself, and realized yet again that he had stopped me from being caught out at night. Odd, because I figured he would be unhappy with me for foiling his plans to get Harry and the others in trouble. Though, really, I realized it isn't me he's protecting, it's himself. "You told them about my trap, didn't you?" he asked once Flitwick was far enough out of earshot.

"What's it to you?" No answer, only a scowl, and so I walked away from him again.

I made it all the way to the statue in front the Slytherin Common Room before he stopped me again. This time he placed his hands on the wall on either side of me, effectively pinning me in place, making sure I couldn't escape. Lovely. "You didn't answer me."

I rolled my eyes. "Fine, Draco. Yes, I warned Hermione as soon as I saw you headed for Filch's office. They avoided him. Your plan failed. Happy?"

"Obviously not since it failed." He didn't look too angry though, and I could feel my cheeks heat up again, as he was once more in my personal space.

"There'll be other times to make them lose points, you know. _Fair_ ways," I told him, looking to the right, away from him. I could hear him snicker, and suddenly, I found myself looking into his blue-grey eyes again.

"I thought you were against being a Slytherin, Elena? Sounds to me like you're thinking like one. Thinking about how to dock points from your little Gryffindor friends." And I hated to admit it, but he was right.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Draco." I saw his grin one last time before he took a step back, winking at me.

"You'll come around soon enough, Elena." And with that, he said the password to the statue and disappeared behind it, back into the Slytherin Common Room, leaving me there.


	8. Friends Or Not?

**Chapter Nine: Friends, Or Not?**

* * *

"You _WHAT_?" I yelped, staring incredulously at the three Gryffindors in front of me. Hermione clamped her hand over my mouth to keep people from being drawing to my sudden outburst.

We were sitting in one of the courtyards, away from most of the other students, in order to discuss what had happened last night after they'd gotten my message about Draco's midnight duel being a trap. They'd escaped from Filch and Mrs. Norris, but they'd ducked down the corridor on the Third Floor that was forbidden. If that wasn't bad enough, instead of turning back, they'd continued all the way to a locked door, and Hermione had actually unlocked it with a spell!

"Yes, I did something against the rules. Be quiet, Elena," Hermione hushed, and I made sign that I would keep quiet, allowing her to release her grip. I scowled, however, and mouthed the word _hypocrite_ to her. In retaliation, she stuck her tongue out at me. "It was a matter of life and death."

"I'm sure Dumbledore was exaggerating at the Opening Feast when he said that. He couldn't possibly kill you for trespassing there. Merely dock you points. Although…you might get expelled for doing it at night."

"Exactly as I said. Life or death." I watched as the boys rolled their eyes. Apparently, they still weren't used to Hermione's slightly different priorities. "Anyway, you'll never believe what was behind the door!" She leaned closer, dropping her voice so low I had to strain to hear it. "A giant three-headed dog."

I frowned. "A what?"

"You heard her," Ron nodded. "She's not making this up, no matter how loony she is." While Hermione glared at him, he continued. "It was huge, with three heads and everything. Almost touched the ceiling. It was sleeping when we got there, but it didn't take it long to wake up. I don't think I've ever screamed so loud in my life. Just barely made it out." Harry nodded to emphasize Ron's point.

"What Ronald fails to mention, because he was occupied screaming his head off like a Banshee and didn't see it, was that the…_thing,_" she wrinkled her nose here, _"_was standing on a trap door. Which, as I said to them last night, means it's guarding something."

"I can't believe this," I shook my head, causing Harry to chuckle.

"Neither could I, at first," he told me. "And I was there."

"No, not about whether or not you're telling me the truth. I can't believe I missed all the excitement! All because I got Sorted into another house! Merlin's beard!"

"Why _did_ you miss out, anyway?" Harry inquired, frowning. "All we've been doing is telling you what happened to us last night, but what about you? How did you know it was a trap?"

I giggled a little sheepishly. "Simple. I left after Draco did; planning to follow him there to make sure he wasn't up to something, which, as it turns out, he was. When I saw him headed for Filch's office instead of the Trophy Room, I sent the message." I chose to leave out what happened afterwards, of course, because I was still trying to wrap my own head around it.

"You've gotta teach us that, by the way," Ron grinned, but Hermione shot him a defensive look, causing him to scowl. "What? It's not like you're the only two people allowed to use it!"

"Well, I guess it's a good thing you are in a different House then, or else we'd of gotten caught," Harry pointed out, and Ron and Hermione ceased glaring at one another to voice their agreement. _The Sorting Hat sorts based upon inner thoughts, values and what is within your heart, knowing that the particular student it is sorting truly belongs and is meant to be in the house it will give them…_

The fact that maybe Professor Snape was right about my Sorting into Slytherin after all made me far happier than I'd been when thinking about it before. And maybe, _just maybe_, caused me to smile my brightest right then.

* * *

"I can't believe he got a bloody Nimbus Two-Thousand!" Draco droned for about the hundredth time three seats down from me, whining to anyone who would listen. He was complaining, of course, about Harry, who'd received said advanced broom during breakfast this morning, very anonymously.

"I think it's pretty cool, really," Tracey admitted to me from across the table, shoveling a spoon-full of scrambled eggs into her mouth.

"I think he's just overreacting because he's jealous, _as usual_," I snickered, only to have the posse to my left fall into a hush. I looked over, meeting his blue-grey eyes. "Something the matter, Draco?"

"I'm not _jealous_, Elena. I merely think it's unreasonable for him to be on a house team when he's a First Year. We aren't allowed, you know. Not to mention you're not allowed your own broom until Second Year, either."

"Sounds to me like jealousy," I grinned, watching as he boiled in his seat, eyes narrowing.

"I am _not_ jealous of that idiot."

"Well, I could understand why." This was probably where I should've stopped, but having an uncanny ability to never shut my mouth when needed, I didn't. I could see Tracey shooting me a nervous look. "You aren't as good, for starters."

"Um, Elena…"

"And technically it's your doing that he was chosen for the Quidditch team. It's your stupid stunt with Neville's Rememberall that caused him to be seen, and thus, get a fancy new broom."

"Elena, you should maybe…"

"If you're so hung up on him, then, why don't you request a change of bloody house so you can go drool over him elsewhere?" Draco snapped, and it was only then I realized that during our argument, Pansy had gotten up with her plate of food, as if to move to another spot. She seemed to signal to someone just as he said this, someone behind me somewhere, and began walking towards them. Only, she "tripped" on what I assume was air, and splashed her breakfast plate all over me. Eggs, ketchup, bacon. You name it. It found itself in my hair and on my face.

The Slytherin table erupted into laughter, Pansy in particular, her loud squealing distinctive above the rest. "She looks just like her little Gryffindors now!" Through the food dripping from my head and into my line of vision, I could see Draco's shocked look. But it quickly changed into that damned smirk of his, his laughter echoed through his gaze. Wonderful. Just wonderful.

Tracey stood up, grabbed my hand, and pulled me to my feet, motioning towards the exit. More and more people at the other tables were beginning to notice, drawn by the laughter, and she wanted to save me the embarrassment. Besides, we had Charms soon, and I didn't particularly want to attend it with food all over my head, lest someone decide to levitate a piece of bacon instead of whatever it was Professor Flitwick had planned for the Levitating Charm.

* * *

Turns out, he'd planned on feathers. Fluffy white feathers. Professor Flitwick stood at the front of the class, on a huge stack of books, smiling over at us. He'd just spent the last ten minutes lecturing us about the Levitating Charm, _Wingardium Leviosa_, and its benefits, as well as a swish-and-flick method of casting. To my left, Tracey was falling asleep. Clearly, Charms weren't her thing. To my right, however, was an entirely different story. Hermione looked ready to pounce, so anxious to try she kept fidgeting in her seat. To her right was Ron, bored, and then, I assumed, was Harry.

"Now, don't forget the nice wrist movement we've been practicing! Hum!" Flitwick tittered; excited to see his students perform. Somehow, from the looks of us, he wasn't going to get much. "Swish and Flick!" he demonstrated once more with his wand, asking us to follow his movement. "Good! Oh, and annunciate! _Wingardium Leviosa!_ Off you go then!"

While all the other students began trying to levitate their feathers, Tracey drooped further forward in her seat. I nudged her, causing her to jolt upright, looking around. "I'm awake!"

"Sure you are," I laughed, passing her wand to her. "We're starting, you know." She gasped, grabbing her wand and looking around, trying to pick up from others what we were doing. I shook my head, wondering how my two best friends—because Tracey was really growing on me, you know?—were shaping out to be so different in classes.

I looked down at my feather, prodding it with the tip of my wand. Taking a deep breath, I raised my wand, hoping I remembered how to do this. "Wingardium Leviosa!" A rather wobbly swish and flick later and…nothing happened. So I tried again. And again. And again.

"No, stop, stop, stop!" Hermione exclaimed, and I froze, for a moment thinking she was talking to me. "You're going to take someone's eye out. Besides, you're saying it wrong." I glanced to my right to see her hand hovering over Ron's wand, which was raised in the air as if to hack at the feather instead of cast towards it. "It's Levi-o-sa, not _Leviosar_."

He scowled at her, dropping his wand. "You do it then, if you're so clever." Uh, oh…

She lifted her want, a smile quickly stretching across her lips. "_Wingardium Leviosa_." With a neat little swish and flick of her wand, her pinkie raised, her feather began to slowly lift off the desk. The more she raised the tip of her wand, the higher the feather rose—and the more Ron scowled. When Professor Flitwick finally noticed and erupted into praise, he turned away from her, crossing his arms and laying his head on them, looking upset.

"See here, everyone, Miss Granger's done it! Splendid!" The Professor was ecstatic, and the other students fell silent to watch as her feather drifted up towards the ceiling. I could still hear someone chanting, however, but it didn't sound quite like the right—

An explosion jolted everyone in the classroom, causing Professor Flitwick to nearly fall from his stack of books. Hermione lost her concentration and the feather fell away from her, all but forgotten as we turned towards the middle of the class. Between Ron and Harry sat the boy Tracey had told me about during breakfast a few mornings past. The Gryffindor boy, Seamus Finnigan. From the looks of it, he'd done something severely wrong with his spell and he had actually nearly incinerated his feather. His hair stood up on end, covered in soot and ashes from what had been his feather, and utter shock lay on his face. Beside him, Harry blinked repeatedly, his cheek covered in a tiny bit of soot.

I couldn't help but giggle. But I wasn't laughing at him. Not cruelly, anyway. The look on his face, his expression was just…adorable, to say the least. I found myself in an uncontrollable fit of giggles that drew his attention my way, causing my eyes to lock with his blue ones. I knew I was the only one laughing, but I was unable to stop myself. I felt both Tracey and Hermione nudge me, trying to shut me up, but still, I giggled. Finally, his clueless look shifted into a smile, and he too, began to laugh.

* * *

"That was brilliant!" Tracey told Hermione as we walked across the grounds, away from Charms class. They were on either side of me, allowing me to create this probably temporary chain between a Slytherin and Gryffindor friend. Ahead of us walked Ron, Harry, Seamus, still covered in soot, and his rather tall friend whom Hermione had told me was named Dean. "And did you see his face? Weasley looked so peeved!"

But apparently he was more than just peeved, because ahead of us, he was ranting away, furiously motioning with his hands. I don't really think he knew we were within earshot behind him, because as his words reached our ears, Hermione's eyes widened.

"It's Levi-o-sa, not_ Leviosar_. She's a nightmare, honestly!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands up above his head.

"Hermione, don't—" but the tears were already there.

"It's no wonder she hasn't got any friends!"

Hermione hugged her books closer to her chest, trying to bury her face in them as the tears exploded, freely flowing down her cheeks. A sob escaped her lips and she sped forward, knocking past Ron and Harry, rushing away. I called her name once or twice, but she didn't stop or wait up. Tracey shot me a worried look and my hands balled into fists.

I stalked up to Ron, who had stopped in his tracks along with the others, and gave him one good shove. "What is the matter with you?"

"She—"

"Has a friend—me, thank you very much," I snapped, cutting him off. I was seething and all he was doing was standing there, blinking, dumbfounded. "And honestly, I think we both believed _you_ were too." And with that, I held my books tighter and stalked off in the direction my best friend had gone, Tracey following closely after sticking her tongue out at the boys.


	9. Fear of Large Creatures

_**Chapter Nine: Fear Of Large Creatures**_

* * *

"Hermione, come on, it doesn't matter what he says. He's a right git," I tried for the umpteenth time, standing outside the bathroom stall, attempting to console the crying girl within. I'd been here on and off today, each time trying to lure her out for our next class. Each time being entirely unsuccessful. Apparently this time wasn't any different. "Hermione, please."

"I won't come out!"

"Hermione, it's almost time for dinner. You've already skipped lunch. This isn't healthy," Tracey, who stood across from me, leaned back against the sink, arms crossed. She'd accompanied me every time I'd come to seek out Hermione today, and was trying her hardest to get her out.

"I don't care! Do either of you not realize how sad this situation is?"

"So Ron said something mean, like Elena said, he's a git. We care about you, and that's what matters," Tracey told her, surprising me, because I didn't think she'd grown that fond of Hermione so quickly after my introducing them. Frankly, I hadn't been sure she would, given their different houses. Apparently, that was Hermione's problem as well.

"That's just it! Here I am, in a bathroom, bawling my eyes out, and the only two people who care enough to console me are _Slytherin_! Honestly, you're both great, but what's the point when no one from my own house even bothers to come look for me."

And I knew, right there, we weren't going to able to sway her resolve. "Tracey, we'll come back after dinner. Let's leave her be for now," I sighed, pushing off the stall door to stand straight. "Hermione. I'm going to save you food, alright? And so help me if you don't eat it later."

There was a pause before she answered: "Yes, Elena. I will."

* * *

"Thank you for trying to help," I said. Across from me, Tracey smiled sweetly before shoving mashed potatoes into her mouth. Sometimes, it was a little unsettling to watch her eat so ravenously. "It's probably just out of pity for Ron being such a git. Boys never do think about consequences when they speak."

She held up a finger, signaling for me to wait a moment while she finished her mouthful. Then, she smiled. "It has nothing to do with pity, Elena. There's a reason I don't make friends with Pansy, and Millicent and that twig, Daphne. I'm not like them. I don't like how they act, how they treat others," she glanced down the table towards where the three sat, flinging food at a Ravenclaw student at the table behind me, erupting into laughter. "Hermione's your friend, your best friend, and I consider you a great friend. If Hermione happens to be a Gryffindor, so what? It's not going to stop me from being friends with her. She seems like a nice person."

I smiled widely; glad I wasn't the only one for inter-house relations. "I just hope it doesn't lead to the cockroach and her idiots treating you like they do me. They're very—"

The doors to the Great Hall slammed open then, cutting me off. Lightning crackled across the magical sky ceiling above us as Professor Quirrell staggered in, eyes wide and haunted, looking utterly frightened. His eyes found the teacher table and he belted out the word Troll, shocking everyone into silence. "Troll in the dungeon!" he repeated, before his eyes lulled upwards and he wobbled slightly on his feet. "Thought you ought to know." And with that, he fell, collapsing into a heap on the stone floor. My gaze flickered back to Tracey, who looked completely scared beyond her wits. I frowned, raising an eyebrow.

"I hate large creatures," she answered, putting down her cutlery. "My father has a—"

But I didn't get to discover what it was her father had, because the students in the Great Hall broke into frantic screams, panicked at the news Professor Quirrell had just delivered to us. All around us, the mad chattering continued until a deep voice boomed out across the hall, telling everyone to be quiet. And they were. I turned in my seat, spotting Professor Dumbledore, standing at the teachers table, arms spread towards the room. Nearby, I spotted my mother at the teacher's table, seated with Professor Snape, who'd obviously been conversing with one another before this interruption.

"Prefects please escort your house to the dormitories. Teachers will follow me to the dungeons," he declared, and Marcus Flint stood up, looking down the table towards us and the other First Years, raising his hands, beckoning.

"Alright, get going. The lot of you!" he called, but I had no desire to follow. My eyes scanned the Gryffindor table, zero-ing in on Harry and Ron, who were slowly getting up to follow Ron's brother Percy. I felt my hands ball into fists. There was a Troll loose in the school, my best friend had no clue, and it was their fault. Apparently Tracey spotted the look on my face, because she called my name, sounding worried.

"Tracey, if you'd please make sure Lightning's back in our room when you arrive with the others."

"Why? What are you doing, then?"

"Hermione doesn't know about the Troll," I said matter-of-factly as were herded alongside the others into a mass of Slytherins headed for the doors. "I'm going to warn her!" I yelled, hoping Tracey could hear me. I waited until we had passed the end of the table before I slipped between two upper year boys and into the Ravenclaw line. Careful to avoid a collision with an Asian Ravenclaw girl with long black hair and a few freckles, I ducked through their ranks, headed for the sea of students with red and gold ties.

It didn't take me long to find Harry and Ron, which was surprising given I'd lost track of them when we'd started marching out of the Hall. As we exited the Great Hall I reached out, grabbing Harry's arm and pulling him off to the side, by the stairs, Ron following swiftly, frowning. "Oh, Elena. What—"

"Hermione."

"Are you still on about that?" Ron asked, rolling his eyes. "Look, I'm sorry I said it, I meant to tell her but I haven't been able to find—"

"That's because she's been in the girl's bathroom all day, crying her eyes out," I snapped, shutting him up. I tried to appeal to Harry, instead. "She hasn't a clue about the Troll, and if it gets up there without anyone knowing, and she's still there…"

"C'mon," he nodded, pulling me towards the stairs and pushing me ahead of him. "Lead the way."

* * *

By the time we detached ourselves from the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw students heading upstairs towards their respectful towers and made a break for the hallway down which Hermione's bathroom was, we found that the Troll had indeed left the dungeon, and had found its way up here. The three of us ducked into an alcove by a window, hiding as the large monstrous creature lumbered into the bathroom, dragging a huge thick club behind it. "Oh no!"

"It's going into the girl's bathroom," Harry said, and suddenly my hands began to shake.

"Oh Merlin. She's probably still in there. What do we _do_?" I rambled, twisting my shaking hands together in an effort to make them stop. Harry took one in his, holding onto his wand tightly in the other, grinning.

"We save her, of course."

"Oh, _of course_," Ron sighed dramatically, following as Harry pulled me towards the girls' bathroom and I drew my wand with my free hand. "It's only a bloody Troll!"

"You said it yourself on the way here," Harry pointed out. "Trolls are stupid."

"That doesn't mean we're smarter!" We paused, and I turned to look at him incredulously, watching as it took him a moment to realize his words. "Wait, that didn't come out right." I couldn't help the slight laugh that escaped my lips. I tapped his hand with my wand, and groaning, apparently resigned to follow us on this silly mission, drew his wand.

"Ready?" Harry asked, sounding a little less brave than just a moment ago as his wand and hand hovered above the bathroom door, waiting to push on. I nodded, not trusting myself to sound less afraid than I felt if I were to speak. Ron nodded, but was beginning to look a little green in the face.

A scream from inside prompted us to push forward swiftly.

* * *

**_Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. Ten points to your house if you're the first to point out the cameo in this chapter from a Ravenclaw girl :P_**


	10. Troll Bogies and Dog Bites

_**Chapter Ten: Troll Bogies and Dog Bites**_

* * *

As we entered the washroom, Hermione let out another scream from somewhere amongst the ugly turquoise wooden stalls just as the Troll swung it's club sideways in the air, smashing half of them to pieces. Dropping Harry's hand, I bent over, trying to spot Hermione through the Troll's legs, amongst the pieces of wood. Sure enough, I spotted her bushy brown hair and robes pushing through the debris just as the Troll raised its club again. "Hermione, get out of there!" Again it swung sideways and Hermione yelped, crawling as fast as possible under the door and into the next stall, repeatedly trying to avoid the damage. I rounded on Harry and Ron. "We've got to help her!"

"Come on then!" Ron exclaimed, stepping forward and grabbing a piece of wood from the debris, chucking it at the Troll. It hit one of its many rolls of fat and simple bounced off, not even catching the creature's attention. Harry picked up a bigger piece of wood, tossing it as well. Hoping to distract the ugly monstrosity from my best friend who was yelling for our help, I reached for a piece of nasty-looking pipe amongst the wreckage, weighing it in my hand. It felt a lot heavier than the wood. I grinned, nudging Ron and passing it to him. "My throwing is awful," I explained and he nodded, looking up at the Troll.

"Hey, pea brain!" he yelled, throwing the pipe as hard as he could. It turned towards the noise and the pipe smacked it square in the face, eliciting a tiny howl. Whether or not it was out of pain or not, I couldn't tell, because I was instead focused on the girl crawling away from the stalls and across the washroom towards the sink. _What is she doing? There's far less cover there!_

"Hermione!" I called, but quickly realized my mistake as the Troll looked back, noticed she had moved, and cried out in rage, swinging its club into the air. "_Move!_" And she did, just in time, shifting over a sink before the club shattered the one she had been under, causing her to scream. My shaking had returned. "Oh, we've got to do something!" I pleaded, grabbing Harry's arm frantically.

His eyes found mine a moment before he nodded, tightening his grip on his wand and stepping forward just as the Troll swung the club back, at the ready. He ran forward, reaching out, and grabbed the club, swinging forward with it. Ron and I could hear Harry curse as it flung him forward, where he landed on the Troll's shoulders, the club dropping just short of Hermione. "Bloody hell," said Ron. Once the Troll noticed, it began to thrash around and it was evident we'd have to save two of us now instead of just Hermione.

I pointed my wand forth at the Troll and…nothing came to mind. My mind went entirely blank at seeing how bad my hands were shaking, my wand quivering. "Oh, Merlin, I haven't a clue what to…" Even my voice failed me as the Troll grabbed Harry and hung him upside down by his feet, curiously observing him, as if trying to figure out where he had come from and why he was on his back. But, of course, as Ron had mentioned, Trolls are stupid. He raised his club into the air and Ron stepped forward, bringing up his wand. I noticed that he, too, was shaking, but not as horribly as I was. His gaze flickered to Hermione a moment, who made the _swish-and-flick_ motion from Charms with her hand, mouthing the words to him, and I saw the slight nod of his head.

"_Wingardium Leviosa_!" The club flew right out of the Troll's grip, who still swung its arm down to crush Harry. When nothing hit him, however, the Troll frowned, grunted, and looked at its empty hand, completely puzzled.

"Ron…," I whispered, nudging his arm, but he stayed put, his wand pointed at the club suspended above the Troll's head in mid-air. Any moment now it was going to notice and then it'd all be over. I nudged him again as the Troll looked upwards, grunting as it spotted the club. "Ron…"

"I…I…" Wonderful, he was frozen. Rolling my eyes, I did the only thing I could think of—I took a step forward and slammed my foot down upon his. He yelped in pain, lost complete concentration, and the club dropped like a rock, slamming into the Troll's face. "Bloody hell, Elena! Why'd you have to—"

But he stopped as the Troll let out a groan of pain, dropped Harry, who rolled towards us, just barely making it to our feet before the large monstrous thing collapsed, its club rolling away from it as it thumped onto the ground. "Sorry about your foot," I told Ron, who was staring at the Troll in awe. He waved a hand my way, telling me not to worry, eliciting a smile from me.

"Is it…is it dead?" a tiny voice asked, and I looked over to see Hermione crawling out from under the sink, covered in dust, eyes wide as she stared at the Troll. She stood, wiped off her robes, and turned to me. It took me only a moment before I launched myself at her, hugging her tightly. Behind me, the boys were making disgusted noises about something, but all that mattered to me was the girl in front of me, safe and sound.

"This is why you should've bloody listened to me and come down to dinner!" I scolded, my eyes moist and I heard her sniffle an apology.

There was more movement behind us, the shuffling of feet, and someone's loud gasp caused me to turn. There Professors McGonagall, Snape and Quirrell stood, all looking shocked, their eyes trailing from the Troll to the boys. Snape's, however, found me, and I suddenly felt uncomfortable. "Explain yourselves, the both of you!" McGonagall said, piercing gaze upon Harry, who was holding a wand covered in disgusting greenish-yellow goo, and Ron, who was still holding his foot.

"Well, what happened is…," they both began, but Hermione stepped past me, raising her chin.

"It's my fault, Professor McGonagall," she stated, and I stared at her, shocked, as did McGonagall.

"Hermione, what are you—?" but she cut me off, taking another step forward.

"I went looking for it after I heard. I've read about them, you see, and decided I could handle it. I was wrong, clearly. If Elena and the boys hadn't shown up—" and here, it was like McGonagall had noticed my presence for the first time, Snape's eyes still locked on me "—I'd probably be dead about now."

"That was an incredibly foolish thing to do," McGonagall told her, continuing on about how disappointed she was. Ha, if only she knew! There stood my best friend, _lying to a teacher_. "Five points shall be deducted from Gryffindor for your lack of judgment, Miss Granger."

Funny, because it really didn't look like Hermione minded. Her Head of House rounded on the boys next, telling them they were darn lucky to have survived. "Five points—" and here, we all grimaced, expecting the worst "—will be awarded to each of you, for sheer dumb luck." Their faces lit up, and Harry and Ron high-fived one another, while a soft smile broke out on Hermione lips, and I could feel one tugging at my lips as well.

Professor Snape stopped that when he cleared his throat and spoke my name. "Miss Sinistra." Uh-oh, what had I done now? "Did you assist Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley?"

I nodded and McGonagall clapped her hands together, looking to me. "That's right! I'd almost forgotten. My apologies, Elena. Five points to Slytherin as well." She smiled at me, her eyes twinkling, before turning away, her green robes billowing behind her as she left the bathroom. Giving me one last glance, Professor Snape followed, but Quirrell remained, staring down at the Troll.

"P-Perhaps you should g-go, c-children," he stuttered, taking a step away from the Troll. "M-might wake."

Nodding, I grabbed Hermione's hand and pulled her along, Harry and Ron following as we hurried past Professor Quirrell, wanting to be as far away as possible from this place now.

"So…," Harry began as we shuffled away from the second floor washroom, towards the stairs. "Good of you to get us out of trouble like that."

"We did save her life," Ron pointed out matter-of-factly, and I rolled my eyes as we stopped at the staircase, grouping together.

"Which, may I remind you, wouldn't of needed saving if you hadn't insulted her in the first place," I reminded him, causing his cheeks to redden.

"Well, um, what are friends for, right?" he looked up, from me to Hermione, who broke out into an ecstatic grin, causing Harry to chuckle.

"You mean it?" she asked.

"Definitely," Harry nodded, elbowing Ron. "Ron was just being a git before."

"I'm sorry," he frowned, shuffling his feet a little, his cheeks quickly beginning to match his red hair. "I was going to tell you earlier but—"

"You skipped dinner, yes, and with this Troll business I wasn't able to get you leftovers!" I exclaimed, remembering my earlier promise. "What rotten luck." I crossed my arms in a huff.

And just like that, we all broke into laughter, and I got the feeling that maybe—maybe everything was going to be alright now.

* * *

"Glad to see everyone's safe and sound this morning," Tracey commented, falling into step beside me, heading for the Quidditch Pitch. The first match of the season was today, with our House against Gryffindor.

"And friends," I added. "Apparently nearly being crushed to death by a Troll brings people together."

"Amongst those foolish enough to seek such trouble," a voice snidely remarked, and we turned to see Professor Snape coming towards us, scowling and…was he _limping_? My eyes trailed to his right leg, which seemed to be causing his limp, and his mildly torn robes. Odd, it almost looked as if… "Miss Sinistra?"

"Y-Yes?" My eyes snapped back up to meet his.

"I see you find yourself in the company of your own House today.

"You're talking about the Troll business. Hermione's my friend. I had to go find her."

He seemed to make a disappointed sound before turning his gaze towards the Quidditch Pitch. "I expect you'll be cheering for Slytherin today, yes? Even if they are playing your _friend's_ House." His black eyes came back around to find mine, and a chill ran down my spine. I agreed, nodding my head, afraid to tell him different. And with that, he was gone, limping away, towards the Pitch.

"That was…odd," Tracy gulped. "I wonder why he's limping."

"I have a fair idea, actually," I stated, catching sight of Hermione, Ron and Harry, who was dressed in his Gryffindor Quidditch Robes, making for the game. "C'mon!"

Breaking into a jog, we caught up to the trio, calling their names. "Elena, Tracy," Hermione smiled. "Coming to watch the match?"

As Tracy nodded, I turned to Harry. "Have you seen Snape this morning?"

"Yes, he sort of wished me luck at breakfast, though I expect it was sarcastic. Why? Have you seen his—"

"Limping? Yes. I was wondering if you thought it might be because he tried to get past the dog."

"Dog?" Tracy frowned, confused, as I hadn't yet told her about the three-headed dog they'd described to me. Hermione gave her a sheepish grin.

"Not you too," Ron groaned, looking at me. "Harry was going on about it at breakfast. He's convinced Snape let out the Troll as a diversion to get past the dog."

"What dog?"

"That's what came to mind when I saw him limping this morning, and his robes are torn," I nodded. "As if the dog had torn at them, perhaps."

"What dog are you talking about?"

"I have a valid reason!" Harry explained. "Elena, the day I was at Gringotts, Hagrid took something out of one of the vaults. Said it was Hogwarts business, very secret. It must be what the dog's guarding."

"_Guys. What dog?"_

The four of us turned to see a very flustered Tracy standing there, arms crossed, tapping her foot impatiently, and we all chuckled nervously. While the boys exchanged looks, I pulled her closer to us, dropping my voice. "You know how Dumbledore said that one Third Floor corridor was forbidden?" When she nodded, I continued. "Well, it's because behind the locked door is a giant three-headed dog."

"_WHAT?"_

"That was Elena's reaction too," Ron chuckled, and Hermione elbowed him, quieting him.

"How did you come across…I mean, it's forbidden and…you think Professor Snape…," she stammered, completely unable to speak coherently. "I'm confused."

Before any of us could respond, music began playing from the Quidditch Pitch, and someone called Harry's name. We turned to see a tall brown-haired boy in Gryffindor Quidditch robes waving for him, a broom in hand. "That's Oliver," Harry explained. "I've got to go. We'll look into this later."

"Shall we find a seat?" Hermione asked, watching Harry run off to catch up to the taller boy, Oliver, his Nimbus 2000 clutched tightly in his hand. "Or…would it be better if you sat with the Slytherins?"

"And have Pansy berate me all game long about why I'm not sitting with my 'precious little Gryffindors'?" I snorted. "No way."

"I don't care where we sit, so long as you three are explaining everything," Tracy declared, arms still crossed, and Hermione and I laughed, nodding our heads and following Ron towards the stands.


	11. Suspiciously Jinxed Broom

_** Chapter Eleven: Suspiciously Jinxed Broom**_

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"You sure it was okay to tell her?" Ron asked as we sat in the stands, watching red and green players zoom around the field on their broomsticks. He's referring to Tracy, of course, who'd we'd told about the three-headed dog and how they'd come across it, as well why Harry figured Snape had set up the diversion of the Troll to get passed it. Soon after the Quidditch match had begun, she'd had to leave after Hermione had brought up a paper due in Binns' history class that she hadn't finished.

'Of course, she's my friend," I stated matter-of-factly, but saw the slight worry on his face and rolled my eyes. "It's because she's Slytherin, isn't it? How often do you forget I am too?"

"Sorry," he grimaced, looking guilty. "She just seemed so dead-set against blaming Snape."

"Probably because she hasn't been a target of his as of yet," I shrugged, before cursing as their team scored again, causing Hermione to laugh.

"Quite into this, aren't you?"

"I love Quidditch, you know that. And even though I was reluctant about my House at first, that doesn't mean I'm not going to cheer for them," I grinned, and Ron's face lit up.

"You're a Quidditch fan?" he smiled. "My favorite team's the Chudley Cannons."

"You mean the ones that finished dead last again last year?" I chuckled, and he turned bright red.

"Yes, them. Ahem. You?"

"Falmouth Falcons."

"But they're one of the most vicious sorts in the league!"

"And one of the best."

"They are not."

"Better than the Cannons at least," I reminded him, which made him grumble, crossing his arms and turning his attention back to the game. Hermione, meanwhile, shook her head, muttering something about Quidditch nutcases. I turned instead towards the teacher's stands, to look for my mother, and found her sitting there, talking to none other than Professor Snape. An image of them sitting together at the Halloween feast flashed before my eyes, and I spun my gaze back to Hermione, eyes wide. "He was there, when Quirrell came in."

'What?" she frowned.

"Professor Snape. He was sitting with my mother during the Halloween Feast, talking to her when Quirrell came in blabbering about the Troll. He'd been there for a while, too."

"Are you saying you _don't_ think it's him now?" she asked, playing with the end of her red and yellow scarf.

"Well, I did think so when I saw the limp, but now I'm not entirely sure. I'm not sure how he could've been in two places at once. And, maybe Tracy was right, why would he want to, anyway?"

"I'm sure Harry'd want to look into it," Ron pointed out, looking at me with a sheepish smile that Hermione soon mirrored.

"Oh, no. I don't like that look," I groaned.

"You'd be a big help," the red-head stated, turning his eyes back to the Quidditch Match and pulling a pair of binoculars from his jacket pocket, bringing them to his eyes.

"Ron has a point," Hermione nodded. "Being in Slytherin would benefit you if you were to look into it."

"You mean spy."

"Yes, that. Well, you'd be able to get closer to find anything out. Especially if we, his most disliked students, were to create a distraction for you."

What Hermione was suggesting would work, I was sure, but the idea of spying on Professor Snape freaked me out a little. Not because we'd be spying on someone, but because, well, to think of what would happen if he found out. I shuddered at the mere thought. Besides, I was now a little unsure whether to think he was suspicious or not. I voiced this to them, saying that perhaps I wanted to wait until I had more proof, when Ron spoke up.

"That enough proof, Elena?" he asked, sounding worried, and a few gasps in the crowd around us brought our attention to the sky—where Harry was being flung around his broom wildly, similar to those absurd competitions that Mr. Granger used to watch in the summer where a man had to hold on to a bucking bull against the clock.

"Oh, no! Harry!" Hermione gasped. "What's going on?"

"Snape's jinxing the broom, that's what!" Ron shouted, pointing towards the teacher's stand, where Snape sat, no longer speaking with my mother, his lips moving, his eyes locked on Harry.

"We've got to do something," I said, before I felt Hermione grab hold of my hand. She motioned for me to follow her, while Ron stayed put, resuming his worried watch of Harry through his binoculars. We twisted through the crowd of Gryffindor kids, none of whom seemed to notice the Slytherin amongst them, because they were all too busy watching Harry be flung around by his broom, I assumed. "Where are we going?"

"To do something," she stated matter-of-factly, reaching the stairs and racing down them, towards the bottom of the stands. I followed as quickly as my feet would allow, trying my best not to think of these old wooden stairs and how far up we were. Within moments we were at the end, and she swerved towards another set of stairs, this time belonging to the teacher's stands. We climbed the stairs, once again as quickly as our feet would allow.

Hermione skidded to a stop, peeking between the seats, pulling out her wand. She winked at me, and pointed the tip towards a set of black robes just visible between seats. I'd never of know they were Snape's were it not for my mother's own scarlet ones situated beside them. "Hermione, what are you—"

She put a finger to her lips, before staring at the tip of her wand on the black robes. "_Lacarnum Inflamarae_," she whispered, and an orange spark shot forth from her wand, hitting the fabric and setting them on fire. Within seconds it grew, engulfing Professor Snape's robes.

"Severus, your robes!" my mother screamed above me, standing and taking a step back, patting at them with her shoe. "You're on fire!" More and more teachers above us began to notice the flames, freaking out, and there was a crash above us. My eyes, however, were on Harry, who had stopped thrashing about and was slowly climbing back onto his broom.

His gaze was fixed on something in the air in front of him, however, and he sped off after it. "He's got his eyes on the Snitch!" I exclaimed, grabbing Hermione's hand. "Come on, let's get back to Ron." We went back the way we'd come, down the stairs and up the next, and this time, the Gryffindor crowd seemed to notice I was present.

"Is that a Slytherin girl?"

"What's she doing here? Why isn't she with her own House?"

"Isn't she Sinistra's daughter?"

"Obviously she's got some good sense. Cheering for her mother's old House, eh?"

I rolled my eyes, "Sorry," I said as loudly as possible, not turning to look at the Gryffindor kids. "But I'm still cheering for Sly—" but the roaring crowd around us interrupted me, and just as Hermione and I reached Ron, we turned to see Harry precariously perched on the edge of his broom, trying to remain stable, reaching towards the Snitch. He pushed himself just the extra bit and it looked like he was about to catch the Snitch before his broom lurched forward, pitching him off as it hit the sand and stuck. "Harry!" He rolled forward, face-planting into the sand and rolling.

"Oh, no!" Hermione gasped, covering her mouth with her hands. Ron brought his binoculars to his eyes, squinting into them.

"Hang on, he's alright." And as he said it, Harry sat up, pushing himself to his knees. He looked alright, but suddenly he jerked forward, one hand clutching his stomach, the other coming to his mouth. "Looks like he's going to be sick!"

He lurched forward again, seemingly gagging, and Hermione snatched my hand, worried. "What's the matter with him?" I frowned. One more terrible gagging motion and something shot from his mouth, landing in his palm, caught. It glistened in his palm, shinning a brilliantly bright gold in the sunlight. "No way…"

"He's got the Snitch!" Lee Jordan announced over his speakerphone, and the Gryffindors around me erupted into massive cheers. "Harry Potter receives 150 points for catching the Snitch!"

"Rubbish!" I swore, stomping my foot on the wooden step beneath my feet, while Ron grinned down at me, beaming. "As much as I adore you guys, I won't cheer when they beat my own House."

"We're quite happy to cheer for you," Hermione smiled, patting me on the shoulder.


	12. Happy Slime Day

**I apologize for being MIA for quite some time. Please be aware I don't intend to do it again, as I've got quite a few chapters stock-piled now, and I do hope you enjoy!**

**Reviews earn you previews, and much love.**

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**Chapter Twelve: Happy Slime-Day**

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November 13th. A day I wished I could stay in bed for. A day I would've preferred to skip. Why, you ask? Because it was my birthday. And even though Hermione and Tracey were the only two who knew, I had a terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach. And given that over the years I hadn't exactly had the best luck on my birthday, I wasn't willing to ignore the feeling.

But apparently, that wasn't my decision to make, as the mere fluttering of my eyes caused the emerald sheets of my bed to react, slithering with record speed towards my neck. They twisted and wrapped themselves tightly against my skin, and my arms flailed at my sides. My fingers tried desperately to get a grip on them, but failed as the sheets constricted tighter. I reached out blindly, aiming for my bedside table where my wand lay, hoping I could hex the damn things off before I ran out of air.

I fell short, however, hitting the corner and losing my grip. My fingers slapped at the cold wood before I stumbled forward, falling headfirst out of bed. I screwed my eyes shut, hoping to dull the pain of hitting the hard stone floor, but instead met cold, and wet, and gooey. "What in the world…?"

As the blankets had stopped strangling me the moment I landed on the ground, I was able to look around and find that I was in a massive pile of green slime that had puddled beside my bed. How it had gotten there, I had no idea, but it felt _disgusting_. "Who…"

But a loud hissing noise gave me the only answer I needed, as I looked up to see the ugly mashed-in nose and white scruffy face of Pudge, Bulstrode's cat, watching me. "Wonderful," I muttered, untangling myself from my sheets, pushing them away amongst the mass of green slime I lay in. I tried to push myself up, but the moment I had even some semblance of a grip, my palms would slip in the green goo and I'd fall flat on my face.

What a wonderful start to turning twelve.

"Having some issues this morning, Sinistra?" a snide voice chuckled, and I twisted in my place on the gooey floor to see Pansy standing in the doorway, arms crossed, grinning from ear to ear, Millicent and Daphne crowded in behind her, bursting with laughter. I rolled my eyes. _Figures_.

"Yeah, did you decide to come over and wet my carpet instead of your own bed last night?"

Her grin faded, replaced by a particularly nasty glare. "Funny," Pansy hissed, while Pudge padded over, hopping into the arms of his mistress. I attempted, one last time, to push myself up. Ultimately, I slipped in the goo, causing Pansy to smirk, her advantage re-gained. "Happy Birthday, loser. Good luck getting that crap out." And with that, she turned away, letting loose a maniacal cackle before leaving the dorm room with the other two. "Out of the way, Davis."

My face turned scarlet when I saw Tracey coming, rubbing her arm where Pansy had pushed her. But my blush was no match for the one situated on the blonde's face, causing me to frown. She walked over, sitting down on her bed, looking guilty. And I remembered that Pansy shouldn't possibly have known what today was, since I had only told Hermione-and Tracye.

"Tracey…," I started, and she fidgeted on the bed. "Did you let it slip about my birthday?"

"Um, not to her, no…," she responded, sending me an awfully embarrassed look. "See, Draco-"

"You told _Draco_?"

"Well, he asked why you were hopping up and down in the common room yesterday, you remember, when you told me what today was," Tracey began, and I nodded, remembering my both my excitement and my apprehension. "Well, he said he found it rather, um, cute, and-"

"Draco?" I asked, almost choking on my words. "Used the word _cute_?"

"Okay, so maybe it wasn't cute, but it was implied, and so, I told him it was your birthday today," she finished, turning rather red, before her voice rose, amplified by her embarrassment in the face of the dumbfounded look I was wearing. "But I didn't know he was going to tell Pansy! I swear!"

"Wonderful," I muttered for the second time that morning.

"I'm sorry, Elena."

"Well, it can't be helped now," I shrugged; regretting it as I nearly slipped and smashed my face into the goo again. "Just help me-ew," I grimaced, pulling a hand from the goo and watching disgusting strands of green stretch between the puddle and my fingers like melted cheese. "Just help me get this off."

* * *

As if my day hadn't already started off in shambles, it had taken Tracey and I so long to get the stupid goo off that we were late to potions. And because of that, Professor Snape looked none too pleased when we shuffled in, trying to be quiet and slink into the back row.

But he was neither deaf nor blind, and stopped talking immediately when he spotted us, his brow furrowing in disappointment. Oops. "Miss Sinistra, Miss Davis." We froze, our book bags just barely touching the table we were trying to sit at. "So nice of you to finally join us. Care to explain to us why you're disrupting my classroom by arriving late?"

"Um," I bit my lip, my eyes scanning the classroom and coming to rest on a snickering cow in the corner, with her two goons. My eyes narrowed. I wanted to put the blame on her, tell our Head of House just what she'd done… but judging by the anger in his eyes, I thought otherwise, assuming that he probably wouldn't believe me. "No. I'm sorry."

A louder snicker erupted from Pansy's lips, and for once, Snape actually turned to her, narrowing his eyes. "Be quiet, Miss Parkinson." And then his black gaze was back, and I crossed my fingers, hoping against hope I'd only get one detention out of this, and preferably not tonight, because we were planning on visiting Hagrid. "I will let you both off with a warning, this time, but if it happens again, expect to be spending your evenings cleaning out cauldrons."

"Yes, Professor," I nodded, hastily taking my seat with Tracey. I'd had enough goo for a lifetime, thanks. From two rows up, Hermione shot me a curious look, but I could only shrug, mouthing "I'll tell you later." As class resumed, and Snape lectured us on some form of draught, I attempted to ignore the urge to glare at the blond boy sitting diagonally to my left, distinctly aware that his head kept swiveling to look in our direction.

Finally, when I could no longer stand the annoyance building up inside, I looked up from my notes, lock eyes with his pale ones, and mustered the fiercest glare possible, in an effort to let him know I was not happy about waking up in goo. The only problem, however, was that rather than look pleased with himself, or even guilty, he looked confused.

"Tracey," I whispered, and she nodded ever so slightly, scribbling away in her notebook, reminding me for a moment of Hermione. "Up for cornering Draco after class?"

Her mischievous smile was unmistakable.

* * *

We packed our things as slowly as possible, ensuring that we would have an excuse to wait around for Draco and the two lumps, Crabbe and Goyle, to up and leave. They were ever so slow, taking their time as well. My attention snapped away from the blond-haired boy when I heard my name called, and saw Hermione standing before me, hands on her hips, things ready. "Care to tell me why you were late today, Elena?"

"You sound like my mother," I chuckled, shoving my potions book into my bag, but her disapproving frown did not waver. I groaned. "It's simple, really. My birthday present from Pansy was a pile of green goo, waiting for the sheets to choke me out of bed and right into them."

Her frown fell immediately. "Oh, gosh! That's awful." Suddenly, she looked embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I…I thought maybe you hadn't met up with Harry, Ron and I before class because you wanted to avoid our surp-um," she bit her lip, cutting off the rest of her sentence. Beside me, Tracey coughed. Clearly, she'd nearly said too much. "Nevermind. Um, I just thought…" she trailed off, shaking her head. "It's nothing. Shall we head to Charms now?"

Behind her, Draco and the lumps had finished gathering their things and were making for the door. "Actually, Hermione, I have a little stop to make, first." And with that, I grabbed my bag, rushing to catch them before they got too far. Behind me, Tracey and Hermione followed. They had cornered a small, blonde, Hufflepuff girl when I caught up to them. She was a First Year, I knew, because I recognized her from our classes and the Sorting Ceremony. For the life of me, I couldn't remember her name, though.

"So, next time, you'll watch where you're going, correct?" Draco said, grinning down at her. He was easily a head taller. Before the terrified girl could answer, her eyes wide as she regarded the overly large bullies to Draco's left and right, I slipped between them, glaring.

"Was it you, or one of the ogres that bumped into the kid on purpose this time, Draco?" I asked, watching as slowly, his brow furrowed into a glare to mirror mine. It was so simple to wind him up that I almost smiled. But I had bigger business here. I turned to glance at the Hufflepuff girl. "Go on to class, Hannah, they won't bother you." Hah, remembered her name in time.

She darted off down the hall after muttering a quick thanks and I turned my attention back to Draco, who look frustrated that I'd taken away his target. Good. "What did you do that for, Elena?" he asked, and I noticed Tracey and Hermione standing just to my left, watching, wary.

"To get your attention," I replied, but realized that wasn't perhaps the best choice of words when his glare dissolved into a grin. One that raised goose bumps on my skin.

"You certainly didn't have to go through the trouble of ruining our fun for that, Elena." He leaned forward, his grin widening and when I backed up a few inches, smacking my head against the wall Hannah had been cornered into moments before, I heard Hermione gasp. So I crossed my arms, determined not to let him bother me.

"Was the green slime your ideas, or Pansy's?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about, Draco," I said, but suddenly, as his cocky grin was replaced by the same look of confusion he'd given me in class, I wasn't so sure. This wasn't quite turning out like I'd thought. "The. Green. Slime."

"Elena, I honestly don't know what—"

"Let me elaborate for you then, see if that jogs your memory. I woke up this morning and my sheets started strangling me. I'm sure you're familiar with that trick, since Pansy and her _bestest_ friends have only been doing it since the beginning of the year. But this morning they had an extra special addition to their wake-up call, just for me, _as a birthday present_," I glared, and watched as slowly, shock slid across his face. "The sheets dragged me right off the bed and into a lovely pile of green slime. Took Tracey and I forever to get it out, and almost won me a detention with Snape."

"And you think I had something to do with it?" he asked, looking astonished that I'd even suggest it. But Crabbe and Goyle had exchanged amused looks, and that was all I needed to keep going, undeterred and angry.

"Well, see, what's funny is that Pansy shouldn't have known what today was, because the only people I told were Hermione and Tracey." I watched his eyes flicker to Tracey, ever so briefly, before returning to me. "And they certainly wouldn't have told Parkinson. But you might've, if the outcome served to amuse you. Where did you get off asking about my birthday, anyway? Looking for something to give Parkinson against me?"

He stepped towards me, reaching out, trying to touch my shoulder, a look of guilt reflected in his eyes. But I was far too angry, humiliation still burning beneath the surface, and I didn't care to notice it, pulling away from his grasp instead. "I had nothing to do with it, Elena. Its simply rotten luck that she overheard me telling Crabbe and Goyle about your birthday, really."

"And I'm supposed to believe you?" By now I've noticed other students stopping to watch our argument on the edges of my vision. Hermione and Tracey are uncomfortable behind me. "What do you care, anyway, bloody git. I'm sure you're dying of laughter on the inside." I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth, because the guilt washed away quickly from his gaze, replaced with a flash of anger, a glare. I know I've overstepped.

"Evidently it wasn't worth the effort," he snapped, turning on his heel and stomping away from me, barking at Crabbe and Goyle to follow him. In the silence that followed, I could only turn to stare at Hermione and Tracey, more than a little confused about the outcome of confronting Malfoy. It certainly wasn't what I'd expected at all.

* * *

I found it a little odd that we were heading down to see Hagrid instead of going to dinner first, like we'd originally planned. I found it even odder that only Hermione and I were making the trek down the winding stone steps towards his hut. Smoke drifted upwards from the small chimney on the roof, making me smile. He'd have the fireplace on, thank goodness. It meant we would at least be warm while we talked to him this evening.

One of the only things that would have gone right for me today.

After the goo, nearly getting a detention from Snape, and having a row with Malfoy in front of a bunch of other students, my day had only gotten worse. Several different nasty versions of crappy birthday sung to me by Pansy, Millicent and Daphne. The bird we were trying to transfigure with McGonagall biting one of my fingers. My spell backfiring in Defense Against The Dark Arts and blowing up in my face a-la-Seamus. And finally, almost being strangled for the second time today by some plants in Herbology. Sadly, this was a typical birthday for me. Much more magical than any of the previous years, but still as awful.

There's a reason I started staying in bed to avoid them.

As we reached Hagrid's, I noticed the faint sound of music drifting towards us from his door, which lay ajar. I didn't even realize what song he was playing, because I'd heard it often that day, cannibalized with cruel words and Pansy's remarkable awful snicker until we reached the door, and Harry let us in a hut filled with brightly colored lights, Hagrid's flute-playing, and three smiling faces.

"Happy Birthday, Elena!" Ron, Harry and Tracey shouted together, throwing their arms around me as Hagrid stopped playing, his laughter rumbling over the sound of birthday wishes. When they pulled away, I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks, and could imagine my face turning scarlet enough to match their Gryffindor robes, and fast.

"W-What's going on?"

"A little birthday surprise, obviously," Hermione beamed, entwining her fingers with mine. I couldn't bear to glare in the face of such glee, so I settled for a frown. She read my reaction better than any explanation I could've offered her with words. "I know, you said no celebrating, but I figured after today, you might need it. So I asked them to come ahead of us and prepare."

"We were planning to do it this morning, but…Pansy's, err, _celebrating_ got in the way," Tracey revealed, her smile equally bright. I was finding it contagious, unfortunately. '

"We also had cake this morning, you see, but…" Hermione turned to the boys, who suddenly looked like they'd rather be anywhere else but facing her imminent glare. Lucky for them they hadn't dealt with it the handful of years I'd watched her perfect it with me.

"It's alright," I smiled, "I think this is just fine."

* * *

It isn't until after we'd helped Hagrid clean up, and Tracey had returned to the castle early to catch up on reading for Charms that we got a chance to talk to Hagrid—our original goal for this evening. Crowded around him as his large table, the four of us huddled together, telling him about the Quidditch match and our suspicion of Snape.

"Nonsense!" he shouted, slapping his fist on the table, making our seats rumble beneath us. "Why would Snape jinx Harry's broom?"

"Who knows? Why was he trying to get past that three-headed dog on Halloween?" Harry persisted, and I groaned, shaking my head.

"Harry, we don't know yet if he really was trying to—" but Hagrid cut me off, eyes widening.

"Who told you about Fluffy?"

_Fluffy?_ Uh-oh. "That _thing _has a name?" Hermione asked, her nose wrinkling, and I tapped her on the shoulder once I saw the pride reflected in Hagrid's eyes.

"Of course he has!" He beamed. "Bought him off an Irish feller I met down at the pub last year, I did. Then I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the—" He stopped short, and the pride faded from his bright eyes, replaced by something I couldn't figure out. We all leaned forward, urging him to continue, but he merely shook his head. "I shouldn't have said that. No more questions! That's top-secret that is."

Perhaps Hermione's theory about the trapdoor beneath _Fluffy_ wasn't so ridiculous after all. I leaned forward, splaying my palms out flat against his table. "Hagrid, whatever Fluffy's guarding is important, isn't it? What if someone—"

"Snape," Harry interjected, and Hagrid began shaking his head again.

"Codswallop! Snape is a Hogwarts Professor!"

"Hogwarts Professor or not, I know a spell when I see one! I've read all about them," Hermione spoke up, sounding distressed. "You've got to keep eye contact and Snape wasn't blinking!" And we've returned to Snape jinxing Harry's broom. Brilliant. I opened my mouth to ask again about Fluffy and his trapdoor, when Hagrid stood up, looking at each of us in turn.

"Now you listen to me, all four of you. You're meddling in things that ought not to be meddled with. Dangerous things! What Fluffy is guarding is strictly between Professor Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel." I watched as his eyes widened again, that mysterious emotion—fear, worry?—returning to his gaze as he stepped away from the table.

"Nicholas Flamel?"

"I shouldn't have said that," he shook his head. "I should not have said that."

"Nicholas Flamel?" Harry repeated. "Who's that?"

As we exchanged glances, Hagrid gathered our mugs from the table, working the fastest I'd ever seen him move. Clearly whatever he'd nearly told us was sensitive, as I'd assumed. Unfortunately, judging by the looks we all wore, that meant we were far more likely to look into it, now. And Hagrid seemed to guess the same thing, because as soon as he finished cleaning up after us, he showed us to the door as kindly as he could.

* * *

I was still milling over the information about three-headed dogs I'd found in the library with Hermione by the time I made it back into the Common Room. I never noticed him standing there until he spoke, and caused me to nearly jump out of my skin.

"Heard you had a rough day, Elena."

I spun towards the lit fireplace, where someone sat on one of the couches, disguised amongst the shadows. I knew the voice, though. I was just surprised that it sounded more gentle than usual. "Draco." I hadn't spoken to him since this morning, because we'd been staying out of one another's way all day. And I hadn't had a problem with it. I thought about simply continuing towards the dorms, but couldn't. "What do you want?"

"To talk."

"My day's been bad enough already, thanks."

"Humour me." Light flickered across his face from the fireplace, and I caught the look of confliction, not of anger, that he wore. I frowned, confused. Against my better judgement, I trudged over, taking a seat on the opposite end of the couch from him. Silence stretched out between us, but at least now that he faced the fireplace, he wasn't encased in shadows. "I would like to… correct what I said this morning. I was responsible for Pansy's birthday surprise for you this morning."

My face flamed in anger, and I would've shot up from my seat if he hadn't grabbed my wrist with lightning speed. I tried to twist away from him. "Let go."

"But not directly," he went on, ignoring my demand and instead tightening his grip to keep me there. "It was my fault she overheard me telling Crabbe and Goyle, because I wasn't being careful of who was around when I mentioned it to them."

"Then let me ask you again; what's it to you, anyway?"

"I needed them to help me with something."

His hand fell away from my wrist as he reached into his pocket, pulling free what looked like a loop of string. He held it out towards me, and cautiously, I took it, placing it flat in my palm. It was a string bracelet, the kind I used to make with my mom when I was a kid. A strand of yellow and a strand of green—my two favourite colours—were woven together, twisting together in a familiar pattern. It was _much_ smaller than my wrist, meaning I'd probably have to adjust the strings to wear it—not that I was planning to, mind you. In the center, next to where it was knotted, a small silver bead sat, the tiniest of letters carved upon it in black: E. For Elena? I frowned again. Something tugged at the back of my mind, a feeling of familiarity swelling in my chest, but I couldn't put my finger on it. My brows knitted together as I glanced up at him.

"What's this?"

"I believe it's yours."

"I've never seen this before." Not a lie, just not worded correctly. I'm not sure _where_ I've seen it before would likely have been more accurate, but judging by the smirk already forming on his lips, he didn't need more ammo for whatever scheme he was planning. I reached out to hand it back to him, but he shook his head.

"Consider it a birthday gift, then."

"It's not rigged to cut off circulation in my sleep, explode or strangle me in the morning, is it?" I asked, sceptical, and he laughed. Sadly, I was only half kidding. With my luck…

"Perfectly safe for you to wear, from what I remember," he shrugged, and my frowned deepened again. He looked like he was waiting for something, studying me carefully, and I felt more uncomfortable by the second. He knew something I didn't, that much was obvious, and I wanted to ask why or what it was, but a voice interrupted whatever question I'd been thinking of forming first.

"Don't you two look comfortable," Blaise Zabini spoke, leaning against the statue at the entrance to the Common Room. Evidently we'd missed his entry. "Or lack thereof, in Sinistra's case." I hadn't often spoken to him in the time I'd been at Hogwarts, even if he was from my House and Year, but knew he was close friends with Malfoy, because they shared that familiar friendship with one another that Hermione and I did. Not that I'd been paying attention or anything, of course. "What are you doing down here so late?"

I meant to ask him the same thing, given that he was returning to the Common Room even later that I had, and I'd been cutting curfew close as it was. I meant to sound more confident than I did, too. "N-Nothing," I stammered, getting to my feet, curling the bracelet into a ball in my palm. "Just going to bed." Why did I sound embarrassed about sitting there just talking with Draco? Was it about the bracelet? Was I so stunned by the fact that he called it a birthday gift, and that this was _Draco_ we were talking about, that I was simply unable to function correctly?

I should've stayed to ask Draco a few questions about the gift, his sudden attitude change, and several other things, but seeing Blaise standing there, arms crossed, smirk plastered on his lips, watching us, I felt like I'd been caught doing something embarrassing. Like we'd been interrupted during an intimate conversation or something, a moment between the two of us, alone. All of which was completely ridiculous.

As I bid them goodnight and sped from the Common Room towards my dorm, I felt the heat rise in my cheeks. What the heck was wrong with me? I was acting like one of those silly girls on those Muggle soap operas my grandmother always watches.

And as I stepped into our dormitory room, closing the door behind me and sinking to the floor against it, unfolding my fist and running a finger over the _E_ carved into the silver bead, I knew that's exactly what I was doing.

I just had no idea why.

* * *

**And there you have a long-awaited update-the dreaded birthday, with some slight twists. Why did Draco give her a gift? And what's the significance? You'll never know, unless you keep coming back :) It won't show up for awhile, so I understand if you become upset. It happens sometimes, I'm not that quick.**

**Well, please let me know what you thought. And stay tuned for the next chapter: _Christmas Awaits_ and remember, reviews feed the plotbunny, who donates previews.  
**


	13. Christmas Awaits

**Chapter Thirteen: Christmas Awaits**

* * *

Time passed quickly at Hogwarts, and within no time, snow had covered the grounds, creating a winter wonderland for us to muck about in. Not that we could, mind you, with exams on the way. Hermione was ecstatic, looking forward to experiencing the exams she'd read all about. I was just looking forward to surviving them, really, because then we'd be headed home for Christmas break, and _that_ was something to be ecstatic about.

As usual, Mum and I would be spending the break at grandma's, which was conveniently next door to the Grangers. So we'd be spending Christmas together, while Ron was planning on going home and seeing his family. Harry, however, would be sticking around, because he had deemed spending Christmas alone, here, with an assortment of other students, a far better idea than going home to the Dursleys. And from I'd heard about them, I honestly didn't blame him. Hermione and I thought it best to keep the fact that we'd be sending him gifts by owl a secret, even from Ron, that way he'd be rightly surprised.

As for Tracey, well… poor girl was stuck here, too, and unlike Harry, wasn't all that happy about it. Her parents had decided last minute to go on a magic-free, very relaxing cruise through the Caribbean, and as such, they weren't coming to get her. They'd told her this in an owl, three days ago, wishing her luck on her exams, and she hadn't taken it very well. In fact, she was still fuming in her seat across from me, nose in her _Magical Theory_ textbook, studying away like the rest of us were.

Well, all except for Ronald, of course, who was seated beside me, organizing his Chocolate Frog Cards. I suppose that's what caused Hermione's ever so _tiny_ outburst, seeing him sitting here, with myself, Harry and Tracey, all studying away, while he goofed off. If he'd been seated anywhere else, he might've been safe, really. It's a shame he hadn't seen it coming.

She slammed her stack of books down, rattling the table, nearly throwing his cards all over the place. "Oi!" he cried, snatching a few before they fell and glaring upwards. "What do you think you're…"

Yeah. Her glare shut me up like that sometimes too.

"Look at you, with your playing cards," Hermione shook her head, mane of brown hair flopping about, her cheeks red. "It's pathetic. We've got our exams coming up."

"I'm ready," he shrugged. "Ask me any question!"

"Alright," she sat down beside Tracey, who smiled, eager to watch. "What are the three most crucial ingredients in a Forgetfulness Potion?"

His face reddened, and he looked down at his cards, his shoulders slumping. "I forgot." I tried very hard to stifle my giggle, but it did me just as much good as it did Tracey and Harry. We looked anywhere but at the feuding pair.

"And what will you do for the exam?"

"Copy off you?" Ron said, mocking her tone. Hermione's eyes widened and she waited a moment to see if he was kidding. When he did nothing more than lift his chin defiantly, her cheeks puffed in anger and she leaned closer.

"You most certainly will not!" She sat back, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Besides, according to Professor McGonagall, we're to be given special quills bewitched with an anti-cheating spell."

"That's insulting!" Ron cried, throwing his cards down, look to Harry, Tracey and I for support. "It's as if they don't trust us!" While Tracey and I could only laugh harder, Harry made an effort to look shocked, before he spotted something over Hermione's head and frowned. I followed his gaze to see Neville hopping into the Great Hall. _Literally_. His legs were touching, and he seemed unwilling to let them separate. Or maybe…

"Leg-locker Curse," Tracey grimaced, before turning to look back at me. "You think…?"

"Definitely Malloy's work," I sighed, standing up. As he approached the table, I shook my head at him, sympathy evident in my gaze as other kids in the Hall began to laugh and giggle. "Neville," I offered him my arm, and he held it, trying to stay stable. "You've got to start standing up to people, you know."

"How?" he whined. "I can barely stand as it is!"

Suddenly, someone shot out of their seat, down the table to Tracey's left, a wand in their hand. I noticed immediately it was Seamus, because that's roughly where he'd been sitting. Not that I was keeping track, or anything. Just making sure where he was, in case something _explosive_ happened. Yeah. "I know the counter-curse," he grinned, lifting his sleeves in delight.

Beside me, Neville nearly choked. "That's all I need—for you to set my bloody kneecaps on fire!"

Hurt flashed across Seamus' face, and he slapped his wand against the table, his voice becoming a little too shrill as he spoke, his pitch rising swiftly. "I don't appreciate the insinuation, Longbottom!" He gathered his things from the table, before glancing back our way, huffing; "Besides, if anyone cares to notice, my eyebrows have completely grown back!"

And with that, he turned to stalk out of the Great Hall, leaving me with a smile on my face. Not only had he stood up for himself, just as I'd been telling Neville to do, but his speech was a little amusing when you were left staring at a patch of hair missing from the back of his head. Tracey had noticed it, too, by the way she was giggling behind her book.

It made me hope that maybe, just maybe, she'd be okay on her own over the break.

* * *

We'd survived our first term exams. We'd succesfully made it through them without cheating (yes, even Ron), and had come out relatively unscathed. I wasn't entirely sure about History of Magic, because I tended to fall asleep (as did Professor Binns, while teaching, may I add), but the others I was sure to pass. And really, who cared about History of Magic anyway?

So here I was, eager to leave, stuffing everything I assumed I was going to need into my suitcase.

"I hate that you're leaving," Tracey admitted, her legs swinging back and forth, hitting her mattress as she watched me pack. Because Pansy and the others had left this morning, it meant Tracey would be the last one in our dorm room—for the whole break.

"Haven't you asked your parents if they can come get you?" I frowned, looking up at her. "I mean, they could just, uh…what's the term I'm looking for, here? That thing we learn to do when we're of age? Apparition?"

"Apparate. And I have sent them two owls, neither of which has come back. I think they're ignoring me." She shrugged, hopping off the bed and heading over to grab Lightning's cage for me. "Which, I can't blame them. It's a magic-free cruise through the Caribbean. I'd ignore me too."

"Well," –I nearly dropped my suitcase on my foot as I closed it and hauled it off my bed—"at least you won't be totally alone. Harry's here."

"Right." She didn't sound enthusiastic in the least. "I just wish you were staying, that's all. Professor Sinistra is practically the only teacher going home, you know."

I nodded, wincing when my suitcase hit just about every step on the way down to the Common Room. Oops. Hopefully the wheels on the bottom were okay, because Merlin be damned if I was carrying it the whole way. "I promise I'll bring you back something. My grandma makes loads of sweets for Christmas. If I tell her one of my best friends is stuck at school over the holidays, she'll probably make you a whole extra batch."

"Seriously?" her eyes practically bugged out of her head, and I tried not to laugh. Instead, I nodded, and she grinned ear to ear. "Deal."

As we excited the Common Room, and made our way up from the dungeons, we found that Mum and Hermione were already waiting with their things. Tracey put Lightning on top of my suitcase, and bid us a quick goodbye, hugging both myself and Hermione before darting off back to the dungeons. Hermione frowned, watching her go. "She's still not liking the idea we're leaving, is she?"

"No. But I promised her a whole batch of grandma's cookies, so I think she'll last until we get back with them." My eyes trailed past Hermione, who laughed, and into the Great Hall, where I spotted two familiar boys sitting at the Gryffindor table, playing what looked to be Wizard's Chess. I nudged Hermione, pointing. "What's Ron still doing here?"

She shrugged, and silently, we both looked up at my mother, smiling. She chuckled, shaking her head and tapping her silver watch with a painted red nail. "You have five minutes until the carriage arrives."

Grinning, we raced one another into the Great Hall and over to the boys. Even wheeling her luggage behind her, Hermione still beat me. The boys looked up from their game, frowning at us. Ron was the first to speak, eyeing Hermione's luggage. "See you've packed."

"See you haven't."

"Change of plans," he shrugged, eyes sliding back to the chess board before him. "Mum and Dad have gone to visit my brother Charlie, in Romania."

"Romania? What's he doing there?" I asked.

"Studying dragons."

"He's _WHAT_?" I ignored how the handful of students scattered about the Great Hall turned to look at me. They didn't matter. The only thing that did was Ron's words. Dragons. His brother studied _dragons_. In Romania. _Dragons! _I could barely think of anything else. Sure, I'd said that far too loud. Sure, I probably looked foolish, staring open-mouthed at Ron. And, sure, both he and Harry were looking at me like my head had fallen off, but all I could think about was that Ron's brother worked with dragons each and every day. Thankfully, Hermione was still functional, and giggled, leaning closer to the boys.

"Expect trouble for not telling her sooner. Dragons are her favourite thing in the whole world. Have been since we were kids."

"How was I supposed to know that…," Ron grumbled, and finally my brain kicked back in and I relaxed, sliding into the seat next to him, grinning from ear to ear.

"So, when are you going to introduce me?" He chuckled, shaking his head, looking amused, and I deflated. He thought I was kidding, didn't he? "I am serious, you know."

"I know. I've just never seen you this…enthusiastic about something." Then he turned back to the chess board and directed his Queen to the spot where Harry's Knight sat, and she animated, picking up her chair and smashing him to pieces. Hermione gasped, and the moment broke.

"That's totally barbaric!" she cried, and I stood, patting her shoulder.

"That's wizard's chess, remember?"

"I remember you explaining it to me, but never thought...well, I mean…it's completely…" While she looked for words, I turned back to the boys, who were paying attention to us again now that Ron had basically won the match. It was obvious there was nothing Harry could do.

"Guess you can help Harry with his research on Nicholas Flamel if you're staying, then." Ron made a face at me, whining.

"But we've looked a hundred times!"

"Only in the sections we're allowed to be in," I winked, and both boys stared at me again.

"You're suggesting we try the Restricted Section?" Harry asked. "Are you nuts?"

Ron nodded. "Yeah, without you two, there's no way Harry and I are getting in there." Then, his gaze shifted to Hermione, who'd recovered from her shock and was smiling. He pointed at accusatory finger at her. "Why aren't you freaking out about this? She's talking about breaking a rule. Or two. Or several."

"It's the only place we haven't looked," she shrugged, before waving at them. "We've got to get going. Happy Christmas!"

As we started back towards the entrance hall, I faintly heard Ron say something to Harry about being a bad influence on Hermione. I couldn't help but smile.

It fell, however, once we caught sight of my mother in the entrance hall, talking to Professor Snape. It was the look on her face that made me uncomfortable. The look caught somewhere between fear and anger. A look I'd never seen on her before. I froze, and Hermione stopped beside me, watching.

He held some sort of package in his hand, in a yellowing envelope, and tried to pass it to her, but she shook her head fiercely, refusing it. "I won't, Severus," she told him, her voice barely above a whisper. Severus? Since when did my mother address Professor Snape by his first name? "She's not ready."

Who were they talking about? Who wasn't ready? And what was in the envelope? My brow furrowed under the pressure of all those questions, and it took all I had not to speak up and ask them. Instead, my mouth clamped shut as Professor Snape looked up, his eyes locking on mine and widening, slightly. He shoved the envelope under his robes, and a chill crept up my spine as he turned swiftly and walked away, his cloak billowing after him as he disappeared into the dungeons. Why had he looked at me that way? Was the envelope meant for me and I wasn't supposed to have seen their exchange? It couldn't be. Why would he have something for me? Something that my mother obviously didn't think I was "ready" to have.

Judging from the confused look Hermione sent me, she was just as lost.

Mum's gaze swung back to find us, and she nearly jumped. Clearly she hadn't known we were there, either. "There you are, girls. The carriage is here." A smile broke out across her lips, but it was tight, obviously forced.

"What were you talking to Professor Snape about?" I asked, but her smile never faltered as she herded us towards the doors.

"Teacher things I'm missing at the faculty meeting. Nothing to worry about, sweetheart."

As we stepped out the big doors and down the stairs, I shot Hermione a worried look. As far as I knew, my mother had never lied to me. But I was certain they were most certainly _not_ talking about teacher stuff. Hermione squeezed my arm as Mum put our things in the back of the carriage, and I tried to focus on the fact that the Hogwarts Express awaited us and several other students at the Hogsmeade station. The fact that the Grangers would pick us up at King's Cross. The fact that Hermione and I were spending Christmas together.

Despite my best efforts to focus on anything else, all I could see in my head was that envelope Snape had been carrying. Mum was keeping something from me.


	14. Christmas Colors

**Chapter Fourteen: Christmas Colors**

"What's your favorite class, then?" I asked, staring up the Falmouth Falcons poster on my ceiling. The one of captain Randolph Keitch, my favorite player, holding the Quaffle back, ready to let it fly. The plush Quaffle I tossed soared up, nearly touching it, before falling down into Hermione's hands. She threw it upwards and it fell wide, making me nearly fall off the bed to get to it. We were lying upstairs in my temporary room at grandma's, waiting for her, Mum, and the Grangers to finish gift wrapping down the hall.

"Transfiguration. And Charms. But I do wish we had more language classes." When she tossed it this time, it nearly hit me in the face. Thank goodness she didn't plan on making a future as a Chaser. "I heard Katie Bell telling Alicia Spinnet—they're two of the Chasers on our Quidditch team, remember?—about Ancient Runes. It sounds fascinating."

"Naturally it would—to you," I chuckled. "What year is that in?"

She sighed, defeated. "Third." She shifted to lie on her side, facing me while I continued to toss the Quaffle upwards. "What about you? You've got quite the talent for Defense Against the Dark Arts and Potions, you notice?"

Of course I'd noticed. I wasn't the only one, either. It was, well… "It's something of a norm amongst Slytherin students, Hermione."

"But you enjoy it, don't you?" I frowned, not sure whether she was talking about my fitting in, or the classes. I paused my Quaffle-tossing, eyeing her, watching her smile. "What?"

I ignored both options, preferring to continue staring at Randolph's poster above me. It was one of the reasons why I liked staying with grandma—Mum would never let me stick a poster on the bloody ceiling of all places, let alone of my favorite player, who I'll admit I had the slightest of crushes on. But of course I was twelve, while he was twenty-something, so good luck to me.

"I prefer Astronomy, as typical as that sounds," I shrugged, hearing the light _tap_ as the stuffed Quaffle finally hit its paper counterpart. I heard Hermione giggle. "Yes, it sounds cheesy because that's Mum's class, but given that I've grown up learning everything about it, I feel that much more in love with it, you know?"

"You _have_ always had a talent for it," Hermione pointed out, smiling as she turned back over to look at the ceiling. "I won't ask you who your favorite teacher is then. You'll be biased."

"I will not!" I exclaimed, although the truth was, we both knew I would be. It was Mum after all. Briefly, I heard Pansy's snide voice telling Draco I'd be a teacher's pet, a snitch because of my relationship with my mother. I turned to look at Hermione, handing her the plush Quaffle and asked her, to silence that nagging Pansy voice, which teacher was her favorite.

"Hold that thought," Mum interrupted us, her head poking through the doorway. "If I hear what you girls have to say about my colleagues now, when we get back, that's all I'll be able to think about when I see them."

We both laughed, and I tossed the Quaffle at her, watching her duck beneath it. "You're no fun."

"I suppose I won't let you girls know that we're done wrapping gifts then—"

"No! I take it back!" I shot off the bed, Hermione hot on my heels, and we raced past my mother and down the hall. I cried triumphantly, throwing myself onto the couch before Hermione and grinning up at her. "I win."

"This time," she said, pushing my legs off the couch and taking a seat beside me. Mum joined us soon after, sitting across from us with the Grangers.

"I was bringing all this food in for your girls to snack on while we unwrap, but I get the feeling you don't quite need it," Grandma said, setting the Christmas plate down, decorated with all sorts of food, placing six of her fanciest goblets beside them. Four quickly filled with wine, while the other two shimmered with milk for Hermione and me. Mum waved her wand and in the corner, under the tree, the gifts they'd wrapped appeared.

Food forgotten, Hermione and I launched ourselves at the stack.

* * *

Back in my room, Hermione stuffed the new notebooks her parents had given her for the rest of the school year into the bag to bring to her house, as well as the Muggle money they'd told her she could convert at Gringotts if she so wished. Carefully, she added my mother's gift to her in her bag—a unique set of quills she'd picked up in the summer from one of her star-mapping trips through Europe.

I flopped onto my bed, pulling my arms closer to my chest, snug in my new Falmouth Falcons sweater that the Grangers had given me. I was happy they'd remembered, without help from Mum, a team from a sport they didn't fully understand. It was nice of them.

"Where do you want me to put this?" Hermione asked, holding up the small, functional telescope my mother had given me. It was beautiful, but as she said it was meant to "stop my sneaking up to star-gaze in the Astronomy Tower" I didn't have much use for it. I mean, I lived in the dungeons, beneath the Black Lake. How was I supposed to look at the starts from down there?

"On my suitcase is fine. I'll find a place for it when we get back, I guess."

"Just be careful of Pansy," Hermione spoke, setting it down carefully. "Wouldn't want her breaking it."

"On second thought, maybe I'll leave it here," I winced, imagining Pansy's delight at smashing the beautiful hand-held telescope. "She'd enjoy it too much."

As I stared up at my Falmouth Falcons poster again, I heard Hermione grunting, tugging something from her bag, and grinned. We had yet to exchange gifts, which is why we'd retreated to my room. "She's really—ugh—awful, isn't she?"

"Cow," I shrugged, rolling off my bed towards my dresser. I opened the middle drawer, lifting a ratty blanket I'd had since I was a kid—something grandma had knitted and given me one Christmas, if I remembered. From underneath it I pulled a thick scrapbook, finding my gift for Hermione with far more ease than she was having. I stepped back onto my bed, clutching it to my chest, watching. "Perhaps you should've taken it out first, and then put your gifts in."

"Be quiet," she hissed, though not unkindly, and seconds later, she pulled her scrapbook free, crying triumphantly. She shot me a look. "See? I was just fine."

"Uh-huh." She hopped onto the bed, sliding to sit beside me, holding her tattered book just as tightly. These books were nearly as old as we were, because we'd started this Christmas tradition when we were little, soon after we'd met. Because Mum and I didn't always stay with grandma, and sometimes went traveling, or home, there were times were I had no contact with my best friend. So we'd devised a way to tell the other all the stories of things we'd missed out on—scrapbooks filled with pictures and writing. From Christmas last year to just before we'd left for the holidays. Important events in our lives together, apart, and everything in between, slowly chronicling out friendship.

Even before exchanging scrapbooks, even before hearing the spine crack as we turned the pages, even before seeing the faces of friends we shared and Hogwarts experiences we didn't, I knew. I knew that this year, above all others before, would be thicker in the scrapbook. I knew it would be different.

Because one was lined with green.

The other with red.

* * *

**Thank you for the reviews. I apologize for this being such a short chapter. The next one's longer, and I'm almost done it.  
A bit more of a look into Elena here with her favorite team and player, as well a Christmas tradition that will continue into later years. Anywho, leave me your thoughts as always.**


	15. More Than Bargained For

**Chapter Fifteen: More Than Bargained For**

* * *

Christmas Break had come and gone, and we were back at Hogwarts. I hadn't asked Mum about her conversation with Snape and the package. I hadn't confronted her about her lie. I hadn't the slightest idea where I'd begin, nor why I was so focused on the envelope. Maybe it had been the way he'd looked at me. Maybe it had been the defensive way Mum had told him "she" wasn't ready. I'm not sure. What I did know was that I wanted answers, but had no idea how to get them.

I considered mentioning it to Tracey, seeing what she thought. But judging from how she'd dismissed our suspicions of Snape last time around, I found it hard to believe she'd jump on this bandwagon either. Besides, she'd been so ecstatic simply at the sight of the tin of cookies grandma had baked her; I'd of felt terrible ruining her mood.

I'd just have to figure it out on my—

"So you found nothing?" Hermione's voice broke through my thoughts. I looked up to find her staring, open-mouthed, at Harry and Ron. "No mention of him at all? Not even in the…" she leaned closer to them, whispering, but I didn't need to be sitting with them to know she was asking them about the Restricted Section.

I pushed myself up from my seat slowly, turning away from my half-eaten breakfast. After a week and a half of grandma's cooking, I wasn't particularly in the mood for plain eggs and bacon. Carefully, I made it over to their table, taking a seat beside Hermione, who seemed to relax when she noticed me.

"Oh, Elena, there you are. Now you can tell Harry how ridiculous he was being."

"About going into the Re—" she shot me a fierce glare, and I dropped my voice so no one could hear me but them, "_Restricted Section_?"

"Not that." She shifted in her seat to glare at him instead. "Tell her." I wasn't going to like this, was I? He squirmed under her gaze, looking at Ron first, who shrugged, then at me. When he spoke, he whispered.

"Well, I managed to get into the Restricted Section—"

"—using this wicked Invisibility Cloak he got for Christmas—"

"—don't sound so excited, Ronald. We have no idea who sent it to him!"

"—and Filch almost caught me. I ran away under the Invisibility Cloak and had to duck into an empty classroom to escape Mrs. Norris. Well, I thought it was empty, mind you. Really, there was this mirror—"

"—which Harry thought it would be a _wonderful_ idea to approach!" I nudged Hermione to keep her quiet, letting Harry tell his own story.

"Anyway, when I stood before the mirror, I…" Here, he fidgeted in his seat, looking suddenly uncomfortable. I leaned closer to hear. "I saw my parents."

"You what?" I nearly choked.

"My parents. I saw them."

I looked to Ron, hoping he'd suddenly chime in and tell me he was nuts, but he merely smiled, while Hermione fumed, evidently upset. "See what I mean?" she told me, waving her hand at Harry. "Ridiculous!"

"Well, that's because he's not done, isn't it?" Ron spoke up, flustered, and he turned nearly as red as his hair when she focused her glare on him. I rolled my eyes. "He brought me to see for myself you know."

"Really?" she frowned, skeptical.

"Well, yeah." Ron rubbed the back of his neck, red again. "Only I didn't see his parents. I saw me, as Head Boy, with the House Cup, and the Quidditch Cup, and a captain's uniform." He coughed, avoiding our gaze, and I couldn't help but laugh.

"So what does it do then, the mirror?" I asked, looking back to Harry, who seemed to be relieved I wasn't taking this the way Hermione was. Although, really, I don't think anyone handled things the way she did—completely mental. "Why did it show you different things?"

"At first I didn't know," he shrugged, poking at the eggs on his plate. "I just kept visiting to see them, you know?" Although he meant it in regards to himself, wanting to see the parents he hadn't known, I couldn't help but ignore the little pull somewhere deep inside. After all, it was just Mum and I, and sometimes…well, I wondered, that's all. "But the last time I went, Dumbledore was there."

Wait, what? "Dumbledore?"

"Yes. He told me about the mirror. It…It shows you your deepest desires. What you want more than anything else in the world, it'll show you and only you. That's why it's different for every person. Why I saw my parents while Ron saw…" He glanced sideways at Ron, who merely shrugged, sheepishly grinning.

"I was amazing, and we'll leave it at that."

"Of course you were," I grinned, while Hermione simply looked annoyed again. Harry fidgeted very uncomfortably in his seat again, glancing back and forth between myself and Hermione.

"I haven't told you the worst part, yet," he grimaced, and I leaned forward, urging him to go on. "When I left the room with the mirror and ducked down a corridor to avoid Filch, I happened across Snape and Quirrell, arguing."

I frowned. While it wasn't abnormal for two people to argue, even teachers, something about the nervous look in his eyes and the way he said it made the skin on my neck prickle. This was the part I wasn't going to like, wasn't it?

"It was something about loyalties, and Snape threatening Quirrell," Harry explained, shrugging. "I didn't really understand, and had to leave before I got caught, but still, it seemed a little—"

"Worth investigating," Hermione interrupted, and Harry sent me an apologetic look.

"I was going to say odd, but, well…"

I sighed, resigned. "Well, I guess it _was_ only a matter of time. And this does sound rather strange. It probably warrants some sneaking, then." Hermione began to grin, letting out an excited little squeal. I sent the boys a withering look, but they could only shrug.

"This evening, after class. I know just how we'll do it!"

* * *

I couldn't believe she'd talked me into this. _Hermione_, of all people! Ron was right, we were all becoming a terrible influence on my best friend, because at her behest, here I was, standing in front of Snape's office, trying to work up the courage to knock, and immediately afterwards, lie to him. I was terrified he'd see right through me. I mean, this was _Snape_, who was _Potions Master_. How could he _not_ tell when some silly little twelve-year-old girl was lying?

Oh, _Merlin_.

I raised my hand, hesitantly, willing myself to knock, when suddenly; it swung open to reveal him, towering above me, his eyebrow raised inquisitively. "Yes, Miss Sinistra?" _How the hell had he known I was there?_

"Um, I…," I lowered my hand, clutching the strap of my brown shoulder-bag. "I have some questions about our over-the-holidays potions coursework."

"You mean the questions due for my class tomorrow afternoon?"

I swallowed nervously, hoping I looked as innocent and pathetic as possible as I glanced up at him with a small smile. "Yes?"

"You could've simply asked your mother, you know."

"I know, but…" Truth was, I had. She'd helped me do the whole thing, even if after the first few I'd gotten the hang of it. Something about reminiscing about her school-days, or something. I could only pray he didn't ask her about it after this. "I felt it better that I ask you, instead. Since you're the Professor, and all."

He eyed me a moment, and briefly, I wondered if he could tell be the way I wasn't making eye contact that I was making it all up on the spot. I probably should've come prepared but…bah, Hermione's plans always got me into situations like these. Why I kept going along with them was _beyond me_. Finally, he sighed; muttered "very well", and stepped aside to let me in.

I made my way quickly over to his desk, taking out my Potions textbook and flipping to the page Hermione had bookmarked. "It's about that one instance involving the Wolfsbane and Bezoar Stones, I was wondering if—"

Suddenly—really, right on cue—there was a loud bang in the hallway, followed by quite a bit of ruckus. I turned to see he'd only made it halfway to help me, and was now shifting, drawn by the sound. As he saw Harry and Ron run past the door, he practically growled. His black eyes focused on me for only a moment. "Stay here, while I put Potter and Weasley out of their misery," he griped, wand in his hand in an instant. "It'll only take a moment."

Except, hopefully, it wouldn't, if things went according to plan.

He dashed out of his office, his yelling filling the corridor a second later. "Potter! Weasley! Get back here this instant and tell me what you've done!"

I glanced around his office, my chest tight. I really didn't want to do this, but given what had happened recently, I was seriously being left with little choice. I stood up; abandoning my bag and book and making for the nearest cabinet and pulling the doors open to reveal shelves upon shelves of books and papers. I groaned. "I really hope Harry and Ron run for their lives."

By the time I was done, my hands were covered in dust and grime. There had been nothing of use in his cabinets, and nearly half the stuff hadn't been touched in ages, judging by the all the dust that had accumulated—which was now on my hands, of course. I went to wipe them on my robes, but thought better of it, given that it would show, and then, when Snape returned, I'd surely be caught. I'd just have to deal, for now.

With all the other available furniture space occupied with potion bottles, mixing vials and ingredients, that left his desk. Most of the drawers had writing equipment and notes, none of which were relevant. I was beginning to worry this had all been for nothing. Except of course, when I lifted a letter and some Daily Prophet clippings in the second-last drawer and found some loose pages beneath. They looked like they'd been torn from a book.

Scrawled across the top were the words _Precious Stones and Where To Find Them_, complimented by a page filled with small, crooked writing, which categorized different stones and jewels, and blah, blah, blah. It wouldn't have caught my interest at all, were it not for the numbers scribbled on the bottom corner of the last page, in Snape's handwriting—thank you, graded papers. Beside it he had written; _Famous Alchemists and Their Finds_.

"No, Mr. Weasley, I don't find this funny at all!" My head snapped up at the sound of Snape's voice drifting from down the hall, and I realized, in fear, that time was running out, and my only lead so far were these pages. I grabbed the one with Snape's notes, stuffed it in my pocket, and was about to head back to my seat when I noticed the last drawer—the one on the right side of his chair, where I hadn't gone. The one that was fastened shut by a lock.

A _locked_ drawer? In his office desk? Now _that_ was interesting. And mildly suspicious. And also drawing me over to it, making me point my wand at it and try to remember what spell Hermione had said she'd used when they'd escaped Filch the night of the duel and run into Fluffy's locked room, despite the fact that time was _definitely _running out, if the sounds coming from the hall were any indication.

What the _hell_ was the spell? I remembered her saying it had been in one of our course books, _Standard Book of Spells_, in chapter seven. Which meant nothing to me, of course, because I didn't bother to read them anymore. I was best friends with a walking, talking version of it.

And suddenly, I remembered her telling me all about it, using the voice I'd imagine an audio version of the book would use. I grinned, pointed my wand at the lock, and whispered; "_Alohomora!"_

It clicked open, and I almost squealed triumphantly as I pulled the drawer open—

—and my heart nearly stopped.

There, glaringly obvious as it was the only bloody thing in the drawer, was the envelope Snape had tried to give to Mum before the holidays. Only, I realized when I plucked it gingerly from the drawer, it was open, and I spotted something small and shiny in the depths, but couldn't quite make it out, because I was far more focused on what was inside the drawer. Sitting there was a small, black, leader-bound book, a crumpled letter, and what looked like a heart-shaped locket. None of these items would've mattered to me, were it not for the fact that in a scribbled handwriting I did not recognize, on the front of the envelope, _was my name_.

_She's not ready, Severus._

Oh, _hell_.

I ignored the chill that crawled its way down my spine. I ignored the pounding of my heart against my ribcage, and the overwhelming buzzing of all the questions swimming around my mind. Instead, I snatched up the locket and the book; letting the envelope fall back into the drawer, and with a clear mind despite the storm of emotions within, remembered the right spell in time, crying "_Obfirmis_!" in the direction of the lock as quietly as possible, hearing it click shut.

I scurried back to my seat, stuffing the items into my bag, the page I'd lifted along with them. As Snape's voice reached my ears from just outside his door, telling Harry and Ron they were lucky Minerva would have his head if he docked them more than five points, I grabbed my Potions textbook and notes, hurriedly shoving them inside as well. Snape stormed back into the room, looking furious, accompanied by a strange smudge on the edge of his robes that hadn't been there when he'd left, I was sure.

"Blithering idiots set off a dung bomb in the boy's washroom," he hissed. "No doubt courtesy of Weasley's older brothers."_ Or Hermione. Pfft. Details._

But suddenly the smudge made sense. Ew.

"Where were we?" As he reached for a vial of blue liquid on one of his cabinets, he seemed to finally notice I was packing my things. His brow furrowed.

"It's okay, actually. I just remembered I promised Mum I'd help her tidy up the Astronomy Classroom before tonight, and well; I can ask her, like you said, right?" I tried to offer the calmest and most polite smile I could, even if my heart was threatening to burst forth from my chest. Or spontaneously combust under the pressure and set me aflame. Either or, really.

He didn't even have time to answer before I shot from the office, holding my brown shoulder-bag strap so tight my knuckles were turning white.

It took all my self-control to make my way towards the Great Hall to meet Hermione and tell her what I'd discovered during their diversion, and not directly to my room to investigate the foreign items hidden in the depths of my bag.

* * *

**The further we get, the more things come tumbling into Elena's lap. The more I show into the world of young Elena Sinistra. One of my favorite chapters so far, because it was a right good time to piece together. Hope you enjoyed!  
**

**I wanted to make it clear that this isn't simply a case of an OC accompanying the trio everwhere, because Elena's got a story to tell, and tell it she will. The more along we get, the more it deviates from the books and films, because every individual handles things differently, and we all knew when she was sorted into Slytherin things would be different. I can only hope you guys will continue to love Elena and her storyline, and stick with her as it unravels.**_**  
**_

_**Obfirmis**_** – derived from latin words "orfirmo is" which means "lock this"**


	16. Unexpected

**Chapter Sixteen: Unexpected**

* * *

I hoped to Merlin she didn't notice that my hands were shaking as I handed her the slightly crumpled pages I'd gotten from Snape's desk. Or how I ignored her offer to take a seat on the bench beside her, preferring to stand, where I could bounce on the balls of my feet, anxious.

Thankfully, she was far too busy staring at the torn pages with a frown. "Well?" Ron asked, leaning across the table, trying to get a better look at what I'd given her. "What do we have?"

"Pages, from a book on precious stones," Hermione spoke, and the boys exchanged confused looks. "And some page numbers he wrote from another book. About famous Alchemists."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Ron frowned, while Harry looked up at me.

"Is that it? Was there nothing else?"

The locket and journal felt suddenly _very_ heavy in my bag. "Nothing," I shook my head. He frowned, looking disappointed, and opened his mouth to say something else, but Hermione got there first.

"Well, this seems familiar to me, at least." She was pointing at Snape's scribbled notes. "Very familiar. I'll look into it."

"Wonderful. You do that," I grinned, taking a step backwards. I could see, now, that she was beginning to realize something was not right with me, the way she was frowning at me, and I planned to be out of here before she could figure it out. "I'm a little tired. I think I'll head off to bed early, alright?"

"But it's barely even dark out!"

"I'll see you tomorrow!" And with that, I turned toe, walking out of the Great Hall faster than ever before. I didn't care that I probably looked like a lunatic to my friends—I could only picture the locket and journal in my mind. Only they mattered to me at present.

I was relieved to see no one was in our dormitory room when I got there, because I couldn't bear the thought of Pansy being present for my discovery. I dropped by bag at my bedside and pulled the items from inside, sitting down.

The locket was silver, and fit in the palm of my hand, in the shape of a heart. I was a little larger than most lockets I'd seen. There were several small engraved designs that covered it, twisting back and forth along the surface, and I frowned, running the tip of a finger over them, wondering if they were purely decoration, or if they meant something. If I had any thoughts about the things in that drawer _not_ being meant for me, they were chased away when I followed the engravings to the back of the locket, where in beautiful lettering, _E. Sinistra_ was carved. I couldn't help but smile as excitement filled me.

Carefully, I turned the locket sideways, and noticed the clasp, meaning it opened. Using my nails, I tried to pry it open, and waited for the click, but it never came. The thing simply wouldn't budge. I frowned, and brought it up to examine the clasp more closely.

And my heart plummeted into my stomach. The thing had a keyhole! A bloody _keyhole!_ Except I didn't remember there being a key in the drawer. Had there been one? Everything had happened so quickly and… great. I had no idea how to get the ruddy thing open. Hello, incredible defeat, the name's Elena, nice to meet you.

My eyes fell upon the small leather-bound book next, and I set aside the locket to pick it up. Perhaps I'd have more luck with this. After all, it didn't seem to need a key to open it, just a small strap that buttoned the book shut. Because I really needed answers.

About why these things, clearly meant for me, had been left with _Snape_.

About why Mum had refused them, looking rather flustered.

About why she'd lied to me.

And suddenly, I began to wish I'd grabbed that crumbled up letter, too, because even if it was addressed to Snape, it _must've_ had answers, no? I took a deep breath, chasing those worries from my mind. There would be time, later, to ponder all these things. Right now, I needed to focus on opening up this book and finding out exactly what—

The first page was enough to make my heart stop altogether.

There, in the same crooked handwriting that had written my name on the envelope, and had addressed the letter to Snape, was one simple sentence. One sentence that threw my whole world for a loop. One sentence that sent my hands shaking, my pulse racing, and the questions in my mind spinning yet again. Once sentence I surely had never expected to find when opening the book.

_To my beautiful Elena, as you start your journey into magic._

_Love, your father, who shall always watch over you._

I suddenly found it rather difficult to breathe. Or think. Or function, really. This was… I mean, I'd always hoped… but I couldn't understand how…

"Did you see the look on his face? What a loser!" Pansy's high-pitched squeal of laughter reached my ears then, floating up the stairs, and shattered my trance, propelling me into action. Quickly, I snapped the book shut, grabbed the locket off my bed, and made for my trunk, wrenching it open. I threw the items inside, slamming the top shut, wincing at the loud noise it made.

I barely made it back to my bed when Pansy stepped through the door, snorting out laughter alongside Daphne. The sound twisted into that snicker I_ so very much enjoy_ (note: sarcasm.) as she spotted me, and she stepped into the room, crossing her arms. "You don't look so good, Sinistra." Beside her, Daphne made no effort to hide her giggle. "Wake from a dream to realize you're not actually one of your precious little Gryffindors, did you?"

I wasn't able to deal with her antics at the moment. I'd of loved to tell her to shove it, or come up with a witty comeback about how I'd dreamt she was being _nice_ to me, but the words simply wouldn't form. My legs, however, were still functional, and propelled me forward, brushing past her, headed for the stairs. Perhaps if I made it to Common Room, I'd be able to clear my head, relax, and calm down.

Pansy clearly had different plans. "I'm talking to you, Sinistra!" Because as I made it to the door, she stuck her foot out, and had it not been for relatively good reflexes developed in years of dealing with Lightning, I might've tumbled the whole way down the stairs, and Merlin, wouldn't that have been disastrous?

As it was, I caught myself rather early, saving myself the pain. Except of course things never went that smoothly for me, and so, a few steps from the end, the lack of balance returned, and I pitched head-first towards the carpet of the Common Room. I cringed, waiting for the pain to erupt all over my body, but instead felt a pair of arms wrap around me, halting my fall in mid-air. Blue-grey eyes looked down at me, filled with unspoken laughter. A smirk was painted across his lips, and I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks faster than ever before.

"That was rather unkind of you, Pansy," he called up the stairs, chuckling. I had far too much to deal with at the moment, and the vicious sneer travelling down the stairs towards us was _not_ welcome.

"She tripped. I have no idea what you're talking about!"

"Of course not," he muttered, hoisting me to my feet. "Doesn't play nice, does she?" His smirk widened upon seeing me. "You can't take it that personally, you know. It's not something _we_ do. Especially since I have to keep saving you."

Pansy insulting me was one thing. I was used to it. It was basically second nature now. But _him_? Insinuating I _needed_ saving? From him? My cheeks flaming, I tore my arm from his grasp. "No," I said pointedly. "You don't."

And with that, I stormed off, deciding to try and walk it off before curfew came around and I was forced to find myself in this Common Room again, or anywhere near my dorm room, my trunk, and my fear.

Absently, my fingers reached beneath my left sleeve and touched the string bracelet I'd loosened with a quick spell to fit my wrist. I still didn't know why he'd given it to me, or where it had come from, but I felt some sort of attachment to it, and as such, had kept it.

It would be another month or so before I worked up the courage to ask Mum about it.

* * *

**Let me set one thing straight, because I know people are going to ask, or assume, and I'd rather not see things get messy. Although the locket and journal were in Snape's office, and it was he who attempted to present Aurora with the envelope, he is **_**not**_** in **_**any way**_** Elena's father. It's not Snape. That said, I won't be telling who is, you'll have to read on to find out sometime **_**later**_**.**

**In addition, I know there's quite a few of you keeping up with this. I see the hits. And the alerts. And it discourages me a little to see so few of those numbers leaving reviews. And by so few, I mean I can count on one hand for the last few chapters combined. I know sometimes it's hard to think of what to say, but in all honesty, just letting me know that you're there and ejoying Elena's story is enough for me. I don't need a novel. Just a few words to tell me how I'm doing.**

**Because you guys are great. Really. Stay tuned.  
**


	17. To the Tune of Trouble

**Chapter Seventeen: To the Tune of Trouble**

* * *

The wood table was cold against my forehead this early in the morning, and I was trying to make sure that, at least, kept me awake. Because my current predicament certainly wasn't. Across from me, one of them groaned, and I felt it reverberate over to me. I didn't have to look up to know they were just as tired and discouraged as I felt.

"Hermione," I spoke, my voice filled a little too thickly with sleep, "_what_ are we doing here?"

"I told you, I remembered where I'd seen that information you got from Snape's office," she said matter-of-factly, and I could feel Harry and Ron wince just as physically as I did at her chipper demeanor. _Why_ was she a morning person? Honestly…

"I'm going to ignore your overly-loud admission of my theft, in light that there happens to no one in the library _this bloody early_," I spat, sitting up and watching her scan the shelf she stood before, frowning, a finger pressed thoughtfully against her lips. "Except us, of course."

"And Madam Pince."

"Whatever. But back to us being the only ones here this early." I shifted in my seat to watch as she scurried to another section, muttering to herself about how disorganized the library was. "_Why_ couldn't this have waited until later? Like, you know… a time when we're actually functionally awake?"

"Because by then there'd be more people around to overhear us. And we don't want that, do we?"

"More? Try _anyone_," Ron muttered, and I heard Harry snort, faintly, beside him.

I opened my mouth to continue the impossible of talking sense into her, when she squealed, rather loudly, and pulled an incredibly thick book from the shelf. "Got it!" she grinned, coming back to us and letting it drop in front of her before she sat down. It shook the whole bloody table, and both Ron and Harry shot up in their seats, eyes wide, suddenly very awake. I snickered.

"I should've realized this sooner," she sighed, shaking her head, flipping over the massive cover of _Famous Alchemists and their Finds_, working swiftly through the pages. "I checked this out weeks ago for a bit of light reading, and I honestly should've remembered before we made you sneak into Snape's office for nothing."

Except of course that I didn't mind, because it hadn't been for nothing. But none of them knew that. Across from me, Ron frowned, staring at the large book. "This is…light?"

She glared at him rather fiercely, and he chuckled sheepishly. She checked the page I'd lifted from Snape's desk only once before finding the right page, grinning and jabbing her finger at the title: _Nicholas Flamel and the Philosopher's Stone_.

Which of course she was telling us all about, reading word for word, her grin widening. The boys could only stare. "The Ph—what?" She carried on like they hadn't spoken.

"_The Philosopher's Stone is a legendary substance with astonishing powers. It will transform any metal into pure gold, and produce the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal. The only stone currently in existence belongs to Mr. Nicholas Flamel, the noted Alchemist who last year celebrated his six-hundred-and-sixty-fifth_ _birthday_."

Okay, so Snape was researching a guy who held the only Philosopher's Stone in existence. A stone that made gold, and the Elixir of Life, and was probably sitting here, in our castle, at this very moment, and—

Wait, had she said…_Immortal_?

"Oh, crap," I whispered. Realization slowly dawned on Ron and Harry's faces too.

"At least now we know what Fluffy's guarding."

"Brilliant. But so does Snape, so where does that put us?"

"No need to be so snippy, Ronald."

"Guys," I sighed, exasperated, looking to Harry, who was standing. "What's the plan?"

"We need to talk to Hagrid. Tonight, after dinner. No one will be around."

"That's awful close to curfew." Hermione's nose wrinkled and Ron rolled his eyes.

"You didn't seem to mind the night of Harry's duel against Mal—"

"Which, may I remind you, we almost got caught for!"

"Relax," Harry said, a grin easing onto his features. "I've got my Invisibility Cloak now. We'll be _fine_."

Except I couldn't help the feeling in the pit of my stomach that it most certainly _wouldn't_ be _fine_. And I wouldn't miss it for the world.

* * *

For about the third time, Harry reached out from beneath the cloak and took a whack at Hagrid's door, knocking with all his might. He _had_ to be home, there was smoke coming from the chimney, and I could hear rumbling inside. I could see Harry was quickly becoming upset, so I stepped forward, out from the invisible cover, and leaned on the door, listening. _Definitely_ home.

"Hagrid, it's us," I spoke, not bothering to raise my voice. He was well aware someone was on this side of his bloody door, I was sure. Harry'd only been making the loudest racket ever. "We need to talk to you. It's urgent."

"Please," Harry added, lifting the cloak a little and uncovering himself, Ron and Hermione.

Finally, the door opened, and thank Merlin Harry had grabbed hold on my arm moments before it did, else I'd have fallen face-first onto the wooden steps at Hagrid's large feet. I grinned sheepishly up at the giant, stepping back.

"Hello," he said, glancing over his shoulder into the hut. "I don't wish to be rude, but I'm in no fit state to entertain today."

"We know about the Philosopher's Stone!" the words spilled forth from the four of us without hesitation, and I watched as his eyes grew large, his mouth forming an 'O'. He coughed slightly, glanced at the dark grounds behind us, and stepped aside rather hesitantly.

We scurried inside, and Harry began folding his cloak, drilling Hagrid with a serious stare. Ron and Hermione took a seat, but I frowned, looking around the hut, which not only felt a little too warm, but looked cleaner than usual, organized, except for one corner of the room, where a mountain of blankets had been thrown together, accompanied by a bowl much too large for Fang.

Fang, who sat on the small armchair at the opposite end of the hut, whimpering. What the hell was going on?

Hermione was going on about how other things must be guarding the Stone as well, but I wasn't listening. I should've really, since it was probably important, but I'd noticed Fang, with all his whimpering, had been staring at the fireplace, and that had been it. I'd been lost to them. Because I now knew _why_ the hut was so much warmer than usual. Why Hagrid was dressed so strangely, with an apron and over mitts I had barely registered when we'd walked in. Why Fang seemed so afraid.

Why there was that mountain of blankets—that _nest_ in the corner.

Excitement bubbled in my chest as I stepped closer to the fire, and spotted what I'd expected to see, warming in the depths of the pot he'd hung over the flames. "Oh. Sweet. _Merlin!_" I could barely contain myself when I whirled around, staring wide-eyed at Hagrid, and grinned. "Hagrid," and the shrill volume of my voice had him turning, along with the confused frowns of Hermione, Ron and Harry, at me. My finger shook a little as I pointed at the thing within the pot. "_Where_ did you get one?"

"Get what?" Hermione asked, her frown deepening. Hagrid looked flustered, all of a sudden, and I realized this had been why he didn't want us to come inside. He was a little preoccupied caring for a _Dragon's Egg_! A real, bloody egg! Of a Dragon!

I was bouncing on the balls of my feet as he came over, grinning nervously, lifted the egg from the pot with his oven mitts—and swore. The others chuckled as he stumbled, egg bouncing between his large mitts, towards the table, blowing on it. But I couldn't. I was far too entranced, and I slowly made my way to stand beside him, staring at the egg, covered in specks of brown and yellow and grey.

And I wasn't the only one.

"Bloody hell," Ron swore, leaning forward in his seat to look closely at it. "Hagrid, _how…_?"

"Won it," he beamed. "Off a strange I met at the pub. Seemed quite glad to be rid of it, as a matter of fact."

"And what, _exactly_, is _it_!" Hermione exclaimed shrilly, glaring at me. Evidently she didn't enjoy being left out of the loop. My smile stretched ear-to-ear as I answered, brightly.

"That's a Dragon Egg, Hermione."

Except I hadn't been the only one to answer. My eyes flickered to Ron, whose face didn't contain the drool that mine did, but a similar sort of recognition. Immediately, an argument sparked between them, but I heard nothing of it, because my eyes were glued, entirely glued, to the egg in front of Hagrid—which had begun to crack.

I thought I was going to faint, right then and there, on the spot, as the shell broke open, and a small snout eased its way out, pushing the egg apart. I clung to Hagrid's arm so tightly that if he'd been a regular human of my size, I probably would've broken his arm. Really.

Growing up I'd read just about every book on Dragons out there, thanks to various gifts from Grandma and Mum, but never, _never_ had I seen one in person. I'd dreamt, oh yes, plenty of times, that one day I might. But this? This was nowhere near what I thought it would feel like to watch the tiny dragon explode its egg, sending shards of the shell flying through the hut, shaking any excess pieces off.

_Merlin's beard_, it was magnificent. Mostly a mottled greyish-yellow, like the egg, flashes of a darker, moss green covered its spine, most of its head, and the extremities of its wingspan. Its tailed lashed back and forth, the end completely moss green, and stared up at Hagrid with blue eyes. It… It… "Holy _crap_," I whispered, taking hold of the table for fear I might actually faint this time. "That's… That's a Norwegian Ridgeback!"

I could feel Ron staring at me. "It's like listening to Charlie, honestly."

"A real beaut, ain't he? I think I'll call him Norbert." Hagrid sounded like he was choking up, looking down as the dragon growled playfully, nuzzling one large, giant finger of his. This caused it to making a mild choking sound, and it coughed, flames suddenly bursting forth and onto Hagrid's beard. While he cried out and went to pat them out with a mitt, Norbert bared his sharp teeth, latching onto the other mitt and trying to tear at it. Hagrid, flustered, tried to shake him off, calm him, but it simply wasn't working for him.

And so, on a whim, I reached out, grabbing his torso with one hand, and his neck with the other, to stop him from biting me as I brought him over. Thinking back to something I'd read about (and trying in vain not to sound like Hermione, here), I began to whistle. I was glad I remembered the tune, which was probably because I'd listened to the audio book on dragon taming Grandma had given me over a hundred times.

The haunting melody flowed forth from my pursed lips, and Norbert's blue eyes narrowed slightly, focusing. Slowly, he relaxed, and I let him go, perched on the edge of the table, his head touching my fingertips. I knew my friends had all turned to look at me, but didn't care. This was incredible! I was actually getting the dragon to calm down, and what's more, he actually seemed to like me!

There were no words. Honestly.

Across from me Hermione beamed proudly, while Ron said something about really feeling like he was looking at Charlie. Hagrid could barely contain his joy, but it was Harry, in the end, who was paying the most attention—because he noticed the boy's face in the window, staring wide-eyed at me and the dragon, at all of us, here, after hours.

"Oh no," Harry said softly, and my whistling halted as I turned to stare into the eyes of Draco Malfoy through the glass window. And then he took off, and a feeling of dread settled into the pit of my stomach. By the looks on everyone else's faces, they weren't feeling much different.

"I shouldn't have done this," Hagrid began muttering, standing up, milling about his hut and putting things away in a panic. "I should _not_ have done this." Whether he spoke of Norbert, or letting us in tonight, I wasn't sure. But clearly, he was distressed. Awkwardly, Harry stood, clearing his throat.

"We better go."

"Right," he nodded, not turning towards us. "I'll worry about Norbert; you all get going, before you get into worse trouble than this."

As we stood, I patted Norbert once more on the head, and squeezed Hagrid's hand before we left, under the cover of the Invisibility Cloak. Running, we took a side entrance into the castle, hoping a less direct route back to our respective houses might be safer. As we hurried along the corridor, no longer under the cloak, I voiced my worry about Hagrid and his dragon now that Draco knew about it.

"He'll be in loads of trouble," Ron said. "Hagrid's playing a dangerous game, having that dragon."

"I don't understand," Harry frowned. "Hagrid told me the first time I met him he's always wanted one. Is it bad that he's gotten one?"

"I can't see it ending well if Draco tells someone—his father, namely—about seeing him with a dragon," I sighed. "It's illegal, owning one like that. You're not supposed to have them as pets, living in a hut that's entirely flammable."

"Could he…could he be arrested?" Hermione worried, her voice light.

"Possibly," Ron shrugged, before his face lit up. "But only if he gets caught with the dragon in his possession. I could send an owl to my brother, Charlie, and see if he could take him. Take him away to Romania."

"He'll be in serious trouble before then, won't he?" Harry grimaced. "And besides, where could we go to hand Norbert off to your brother without everyone seeing?"

I snapped my fingers then, grinning, the idea all fitting together in my head. "The Astronomy Tower. I can get us up there at night. Mum taught me how. Lets me watch the stars sometimes when I've got to think."

"Right, I'll send Charlie an owl as soon as—"

But I never figured out when Ron was planning on sending his letter, because a moment later I rammed into him as we turned a corner. I nearly cursed aloud, and opened my mouth to ask him what the bloody hell he was stopping without warning for, when I spotted Professor McGonagall standing there in her night robes, arms crossed, looking upset. From behind her crept Draco, an unnerving smirk on his lips. Of all the teachers for him to go to…

"Good evening," she said, her lips forming a tight, thin, line. "If you could follow me." A demand, not a request, after which she turned, striding back into her office. We did as she told us to, and it took all my self-control to not kick Draco as we came to a stop before her desk, him standing proudly to my right. Her stern gaze focused on us, one after one, and beside him, I felt Ron fidget. "Nothing," she began, trying not to raise her voice. "I repeat, _nothing_, gives a student the right to walk about the school at night." She sighed, shaking her head, continuing. "As punishment for your actions, fifty points will be taken from your house."

"_Fifty?_" Harry choked.

"Each."

I winced, and saw Draco grin to my right. I'd expected him to be angry later that I'd lost Slytherin points—hell, I wouldn't be surprised if tomorrow morning Pansy hexed my bed sheets in honor of it—but, well, my friends had just lost Gryffindor one-hundred-and-fifty, and that amused him far more. Only…I didn't think he'd be grinning much longer, because the small hourglasses that hung on the wall over McGonagall's shoulder, showcasing sands of four different colors, well…the green one had gone down _much _far than just fifty.

My suspicions were confirmed moments later when McGonagall spoke again. "All five of you will be receiving detention to ensure it doesn't happen again."

I was right—he wasn't smiling anymore. "Excuse me, Professor," he stepped forward, frowning. "Perhaps I heard you wrong. I thought you said the _five_ of us?"

"You heard me correctly, Mr. Malfoy." She turned on him now, and I fought back the urge to smile. He was paying for it just as much as we were. Git. "You see, honorable as your intentions were, you too were out of bed after hours. You will join your classmates in detention."

As we were dismissed and sent to bed, I watched the anger bubble on his face. He definitely wouldn't keep quiet about what he'd seen, if he hadn't told McGonagall everything. We were going to have to work fast to save Norbert. I whispered this to Ron before slipping off towards the stairs that would take me to the dungeons.

Neither Draco nor I said a word the whole way there, and I couldn't help feeling this was bad news. _Very_ bad.


	18. Unlikely Partners

**Chapter Eighteen: Unlikely Partners**

* * *

It wasn't just the walk back, it seemed. We'd avoided one another all day, never speaking a word about or to the other. And I was fine with that. Tracey, it seemed, was not.

"What happened?"

"What's the matter with you both?"

"What did he do?"

"What did _you_ do?"

"Did you two have anything to do with us losing points?"

When I finally told her the whole story that afternoon, sitting in the common room with my potions book in my lap, trying to shake the feeling that he was in the room, watching me, she _flipped_. She wasn't angry or anything. Instead, she was excited. She wanted to know all about sneaking out, what Norbert was like, where my love of dragons had started, what was going to happen to him, and most importantly—what the hell was wrong with us?

"We're only trying to help Hagrid," I shrugged.

"Not you and the others," she shook her head. "You and grumpy," she spoke, nodding her head towards the corner, where he was indeed seated, not bothering with a book, glaring in our direction over Crabbe and Goyle's heads. We made eye contact, and that was it. The spellbook he hadn't been reading fell from his lap as he got up, heading our way. "Guess I'll find out," she grinned, and I couldn't help but shoot her a look.

I tried in vain to focus on my reading about Forgetfulness Potion, wondering how quickly I could brew one to make the scene that was about to unfurl go away. Or make him go away, really. When a shadow fell over my book, I didn't have to look up to know he stood there, arms crossed, looking down at me. I didn't dare speak first. He didn't seem to mind.

"I'm surprised you're sitting here, out in the open," he spoke, cautious. "Pansy could return at any moment, and I'm sure she's absolutely _pleased_ with you today. Not that I blame her, fooling around at that _oaf's_ so late at night, you were bound to get in trouble. Stupid, really, and now you've gone and cost us—"

"Need I remind you we _both_ were out late and we _both_ lost points, Draco?" I said, finally looking up at him, angry. "And it was _your _fault, after all. We were doing just _fine_ before you came along and tattled like a five-year-old."

"Oh, I'm _sure_," he spat. "Sitting there with a bloody monster on your lap. You—"

Just then, a small ball of red light shot into the room, and I swore, lightly. Not here, please, not here. It really was _not the time_. The ball hovered before me, and Hermione's whisper leaked out, and I coughed, loudly, trying to cover it so he wouldn't hear. _Friday night. Charlie. Tower._

Today was Tuesday. Crap.

When Tracey's brow rose, I knew she'd heard, which meant that Draco, too, had heard about our plans. And judging by the look of anger creased onto his face, he wasn't pleased with it. He shot me a dirty look before stomping off, and I could only imagine him going to send his father an owl all about it. Or tattle to another teacher. We were going to be caught again, surely, and this time, there'd be no denying Norbert's existence and temporarily hiding him. This time we'd be done for.

There was really only one solution—I'd have to go myself. As soon as possible. Tonight, even, if I could. Without anyone knowing.

I sighed, excused myself from Tracey, and slipped off to try and figure out how to inform Charlie of the change of plans without alerting my friends. I wondered about how heavy Norbert would be to carry to the Astronomy Tower on my own, even with the secret passageways.

Merlin. This was going to _suck_.

* * *

It was Thursday night, and I was buttoning up my cloak as tightly as possible, hoping to keep the chilly March air away from me. With luck, the thick green sweater, jeans, boots and black gloves I was wearing would do it. But for good measure, I laced a ribbon through my hair, tying it tightly into a small ponytail and hiding it beneath a hat. Wand tucked into my front jeans pocket, I tip-toed from the dormitory and down the stairs. I had heard back from Charlie just yesterday morning, informing me he could make it a night earlier if trouble was really brewing.

I hadn't told Harry and Ron, and certainly not Hermione, who'd not only be unable to keep the secret, but would come with me. As much as I would love the assistance, since Norbert was going to be a right pain to carry, I didn't want Gryffindor losing _more_ points than they already had, in case we were caught.

And caught I was—just not by who I'd thought. I hadn't even made it out of the bloody Common Room. He was sitting by the fireplace, barely distinguishable in the dim light of fading embers, and I nearly jumped out of my skin when he spoke. "What do you think you're doing?"

I froze, half-way to the statue leading out into the dungeons, and cursed aloud. He was at my side in an instant, his gray-blue eyes set into a fierce glare. I tried in vain to grin innocently. "I sleep-walk, remember?" I giggled nervously.

He didn't seem to find it funny. "You're going to lose us points again, gallivanting around at night," he spat, circling me. "What are you doing, anyway?" And then, as he looked me up and down and registered the warm clothes I was wearing, he seemed to realize exactly what it was I was doing, because his eyes widened, and softly, he swore. "You're going a night earlier than your ruddy Gryffindor friends planned, aren't you? Because I overheard Granger's message?"

I said nothing, preferring to stare at my gloves, which were particularly of interest to me at the moment. I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks. _Why_ did it have to be him? Anyone else from our house could've caught me, and it wouldn't have mattered. No one would've figured it out that fast. It could've been Pansy, for all I cared, because I knew she wouldn't tattle on me to lose points! He was leaning closer, frowning. "What does it matter to you, anyway, what happens to that oaf's pet mutant?"

I'd had enough. I whipped my wand from my jeans, bringing it up to touch his chin, anger lacing itself into my words. "Hagrid never did anything to you, Draco. Just because Harry's friends with him doesn't mean you have to hate him. He's actually really nice, and Norbert—"

"That monster has a name?"

"That monster is the single most amazing creature I've seen in my whole life!" I yelled, and watched as he winced. Hopefully I hadn't woken anyone. Crap. I lowered my voice as I continued. "And he's not a monster. Nothing close to it. I've dreamt my whole life about seeing a dragon this close, and I'm not about to let you ruin it. And I'm going to save Norbert tonight, and give him to Ron's brother Charlie, so he can be free in Romania, and not condemned to whatever slaughterhouse your father intends to give him to."

I waited to see the anger in his eyes. The contempt. The disgust. Instead, I saw only a resigned defeat, and a small ghost of a smile on his lips I'd have missed were he not standing so close. Yet he didn't step away, tell me I'd won, let me get on with things. Time was trickling away, and I had to meet Charlie at midnight. If I didn't, he'd think things had gone wrong, and he'd leave.

"You never cease to surprise me, you know. By all rights, you should act the way the rest of us do, be the typical Slytherin, _enjoy_ our company instead of avoid it," he smirked, winking. "You're cunning, crafty, and you really do use any means to achieve your ends. And yet, despite that, you practically bleed Gryffindor all over the place."

I frowned, not entirely sure what his point was, or whether I should be insulted or flattered by his tirade. I settled for a rather confused; "Thank you?"

"I know you're going to go and save that ruddy dragon regardless of what I say," he rolled his eyes. "And I know you shouldn't go on your own, lest it try to eat you alive when you're doting on it, or something."

"He wouldn't!"

"So you keep telling me," he shrugged, crossing his arms. "But anyway, you'll never make it on your own, even if you know a secret way up to your mother's tower, which of course you do."

"And I suppose you're going to offer your help," I scoffed. "Don't make me—"

"Yes, actually."

"Er, _what_?"

"You don't have time to wake Potter and the others. So I'm offering you my assistance."

I blinked, staring up at him, before saying, quite dumbly, "you're mental, you know? Completely mental. _Why_ would you want to help me do the exact opposite of what you've been trying for all week since you caught us at Hagrid's?"

"Because otherwise, you'll get in trouble, then we'll probably lose the House Cup to Ravenclaw, or even bloody Hufflepuff, and that won't do." He shrugged, turning away, towards the statue. "Besides, you're likely to get expelled if you're caught out again."

"And Malfoy cares, does he? Since when?" I found myself grinning, slipping past the statue and into the dimly lit dungeons.

"Stuff it, Sinistra."

* * *

Seeing the look on Hagrid's face when he opened the back door to find me standing there, as planned_—with_ Draco, was only slightly more amusing then the look of discomfort on the boy himself. As if it pained him to just stand there, on the steps, and wait as I gathered a bundle of blankets and cowhides to wrap Norbert in. "It'll be fine," I assured Hagrid for the third time since we'd arrived, as he hadn't taken his confused stare from the boy accompanying me. "He's helping or else suffering the consequences. Really, it's fine, Hagrid."

Only Hagrid burst into great tears, babbling about how it wasn't fine at all, because what if Norbert didn't like Romania, or if the other dragons were mean to him, and oh, how he didn't want to let him go at all! I could practically feel Draco's disgruntled stare boring into my back as I smiled sweetly up at Hagrid. It was about then that I noticed Hagrid was in fact covered in various scratches and gashes, and I decided perhaps it was safer to carry the dragon in the crate he currently sat in, instead of the bundle in my arms. Just in case.

I didn't need Draco telling me he'd been right. Not tonight. Not when every little second mattered. I turned at the door, looking up at the giant man. "Hagrid, um, I was wondering," I bit my lip, eyes darting to Draco a moment. "Could you not mention this to Harry and the others?"

"Don't they know yer taking Norbert?" he frowned.

"Well, yes," I lied, feeling terrible about it, my fingers twisting in the fabric of my sleeves. "But they think I'm, um, _alone_."

His eyes widened as he glanced towards Draco, and caught on. "Oh. Right." He coughed, waving a hand before him. "Don' you worry, Elena. I won't say a word."

"T-Thanks," I grinned, unsteady as I made my way down the steps and Draco grabbed the handle on the other side of the crate hesitantly. His eyes narrowed for a moment before he tightened his grip and looked away. And so, bidding Hagrid goodbye, the crate secured firmly between Draco and I, we made for the castle.

We'd made it only ten feet before he swore rather angrily at the crate, and pulled a hand away, letting it drop and hit the ground. Inside, Norbert hissed nastily, baring his teeth. "Bloody thing tried to bite my hand off!"

I rolled my eyes. "Do you want me to carry him myself, Draco?"

He coughed, straightening his shoulders and placing his hand back. "Of course not," he snapped. "You're mental enough to try him in your arms."

I shrugged. "More comfortable than a crate, I think."

"More dangerous, too." He shuddered as we continued on into the castle, taking a left at the first hallway as I scanned the portraits on the wall for just the right one. "You lied back there to the oaf, didn't you?"

"_Hagrid_," I amended, before turning slightly pink. "And yes."

"About quite a few things."

"Yes."

"Why?"

I sighed, rolling my eyes as we reached the right painting and I lowered the crate to the ground, ignoring how Norbert still hissed softly if Draco got too close, claws sticking out of the holes. The man in the portrait was sleeping, leaning against his desk, while the bird he frequently transfigured into a glass while animated was flying around, chirping happily. "Emeric!" I whispered frantically. "Emeric, wake up!"

Beside me, Draco frowned. "Emeric?"

"Emeric Switch," I nodded. "He's the author of our Transfiguration Textbook."

"He's _dead_?" Draco blinked, staring up at the sleeping figure. "But the book's only a few years old."

It was common knowledge that most paintings hanging in Hogwarts were of notable witches and wizards who provided for the magical community, but who were also, unfortunately, deceased.

"Two," I nodded again, before grinning. "You pay attention in class? Since when?"

"Stuff it," he huffed, crossing his arms just as I, exasperated, tapped on the frame of the portrait with force. Emeric woke with a start, cursing, before noticing us. If paintings could blush, he did.

"Well, Miss Sinistra, hello! Going up for another late-night stargazing, are we?" He then seemed to squint, but I couldn't be sure whether it was at Draco, or the dragon. "Strange assortment you've got here, Miss Sinistra."

I rubbed the back of my neck, smiling sheepishly. "Appreciate if you didn't tell Mum," I said, and very swiftly, he nodded, waving a hand in front of him.

"Oh! Of course, of course. No harm in secrets, I say."

"Um, Emeric?"

"Yes?" he smiled.

"We kind of need you to open the passageway."

"Right! Right! Of course!" With a soft click, the portrait swung wide, revealing a long, dimly-lit corridor. As we bent down to pick up Norbert's crate, Emeric wished us luck, and before long, we were traveling down the passageway, the painting clicking shut behind us.

"Is he always so…strange?" Draco asked as we reached the stairs.

"Lost a few marbles, hasn't he?" I chuckled. I went on to explain how Mum thought it was because he'd been researching methods of camouflaging oneself in the wild, trying to figure out how to transfigure oneself into a tree, and without willing volunteers, tried it on himself. I only got half-way, though, because suddenly I heard voices, angry and urgent, coming from a portrait hole we'd just passed on the Third Floor. I pulled to a stop so quickly Draco and the crate almost ran into me.

"Merlin, Elena, what are you-?"

"Shh!" I hissed, pressing a finger to my lips as I softly put Norbert's cage down, stepping closer to the back of the painting. I strained to hear the voices, not daring to move the portrait for fear of being caught pretty easily. It didn't take me long to figure out who was on the other side, regardless of their hushed voices.

"Severus, I-I-I—"

"You don't want me as your enemy, Quirrell."

"I don't know what you mean."

"You know perfectly well what I mean. I want to know how much you know. I want to know the truth."

"But, S-S-Severus, I—"

"Do you take me for a fool? We both know you're trying to get past the door. I want to know why. I want you to know, you've no idea where this road leads."

"I-I know perfectly w-well, Severus, and—"

"That's enough. These halls are filled with too many ears. We'll continue this later, once you've had time to think."

I stepped back, eyes wide, hand covering my mouth. I tried not to lean into the light and let Draco see the shock evident on my face, even if I was pretty sure my heartbeat was echoing in the passageway, now.

What did this mean? Was Snape trying to gain an ally in Quirrell? Was he trying to force him to help him get the Stone? We'd all agreed that's what he was after, but maybe, since he'd been unsuccessful so far, perhaps he was looking for help. Someone to face Fluffy for him? No, he couldn't. Not Snape. Despite the things we were learning he was capable of, cowardice was certainly not one of them.

What the hell did this mean, then?

* * *

**Ahem. Yes, because Draco helping with the dragon rubbish doesn't seem totally barking at all, right? WRONG. We'll leave delusions aside for now, and tell me what you thought of the chapter, yeah? Yeah.  
Oh, and don't mind Snape and Quirrell. And her _inane_ Dragon love. A loony, that one.**

**WE GET TO SEE CHARLIE NEXT CHAPTER WEEEEEE-sorry.  
**


	19. E Stands For?

**Chapter Nineteen: E Stands For Elide**

* * *

"Earth to Sinistra. It's getting late, and I'm not going to carry this bloody beast up to the Tower myself, you know!"

I turned to see him standing on the steps, crate half-hoisted up the stairs where I'd left him, anger etched into his features. Beneath him, in the crate he had an aversion to touching, Norbert had begun hissing again. Evidently it was not the first time he'd called on me. I really needed to stop doing that. Sheepishly, I nodded, hurrying over to my half of the crate and taking hold.

The dragon seemed to calm, as did Draco's anger, and we carried on.

Another five minutes and we'd reached the top of the tower, and I knocked twice on the portrait so it swung open. The lady in it didn't even wake as I pushed out onto the stone floor. I instructed Draco to stay put a moment, and made my way to the wooden door beside the small flight of stairs leading to the main area of the Astronomy Tower. On the third knock, Mum answered.

Her long black hair was still neatly in a bun, and she wore the same robes she'd been wearing all day, which meant she hadn't even thought of retiring to bed yet. We'd have to be quiet once Charlie got here.

"Still up?" I asked, smiling.

"Some of us have work to do," she stated. "Can't spend all our time watching the stars."

"You can when you're twelve," I grinned, and as she ruffled my hair, I tried not to complain.

"Go ahead, then. But don't be up too late. Professor Snape likes to prowl his dungeons when he can't sleep, and I won't be having you get caught again, young lady. Not even by your own Head of House."

Her words were meant to be amusing, I'm sure. The laughter in her eyes said so. Only, she'd mentioned Snape, and that got me thinking about what I'd seen downstairs. It sent a chill down my spine. I shook it off, keeping a grin plastered on my lips. "Thanks, Mum!"

She planted a quick kiss on the top of my head, before disappearing back inside her office. When he heard the door shut, Draco slipped out from behind the portrait, dragging Norbert's crate with him, careful not to make too much noise. He was also frowning at me.

"What?"

"I figured she'd probably be letting you sit up here and watch the stars, or whatever. But I didn't expect her to be so…_okay_ with you sneaking out late. And your getting caught. And your detention. She does know about all that, doesn't she?"

"Of course she does. I told her before McGonagall did." I shrugged, helping him haul the crate up the steps to the top of the tower. "She says we all do things when we're young. Things to feel different, things to fit in, things that sound fun. And we learn from them. She figures I'm old enough to know how to handle myself, and learn from my mistakes. She's my Mum, she trusts me." I turned away, looking up at the sparkling lights in the sky. "Besides, she's the one that taught me that secret pathway here. Like mother like daughter, it's a hobby to watch the stars, find them fascinating, so she lets me. Perk of being a teacher's daughter, I suppose."

I saw his face darken before he looked away, out over the grounds, and briefly, I remembered what Mum had told me about his father. About his attitude. I was starting to wonder just how different it was for him at home. Just what made him so…bitter, all the time. I wasn't blind. He treated my friends horribly. Hermione, Ron, and especially Harry. I wasn't sure why I was the exception, but I was going to wager it was something about me being in Slytherin. Something about me being like the rest of them, if I wanted to. Something that scared me a little, because I could.

He was leaning against the railing, looking out over the grounds and into the sky, keeping watch for any sign of Charlie, keeping us in silence. So I made my way to the crate, where Norbert was fidgeting, making a fuss, and unlatched the lock. The door swung open, and he made an excited little sound. Behind me, I heard shuffling, then Draco's voice; "What are you doing?"

"He's been cooped up in there for a bit, I feel bad," I explained, grinning as he barreled into my knees, squeaking. I leaned down, grabbing a blanket from his crate with one hand, and scooping him up with the other. In the short week since he'd hatched, he'd grown quite big, and more importantly, quite _heavy_.

"Are you _mad_?" he hissed, staring at me with wide eyes. "That thing's dangerous!"

"He's harmless." I cooed at the creature in my arms, pulling some scraps of meat from my pocket that I'd snuck from dinner. Draco gave me a funny look, and I merely smiled. "You know, for someone who happens to be named for them, you sure have an aversion to Dragons." The look merely intensified, as an Norbert devoured the food, I tilted my head slightly, observing him. "The Black family is known for naming their children after constellations, are they not?" He nodded ever so slightly, and I continued. "Your name, _Draco_, is the constellation of the Dragon."

"You fancy both those creatures and the stars pretty strongly, don't you?" I rewarded him with my most brilliant smile, and it seemed to catch him slightly off-guard, as he looked away, flustered. Then a frown slid onto his features, and it brought me to notice the two figures moving against the dark sky towards us.

Charlie was finally here.

Norbert began to fuss as they came to land, so I ushered him back towards his crate, whistling the tune I'd sung to him the day he'd hatched. Affectionately I patted him on the head, and then closed the crate, reluctance crackling in my fingers.

"Quite a trick you've got going for you there, girl." I turned, finding the source of the unfamiliar and amused voice to be a tall, curly-haired redhead, abounding with freckles and good cheer.

"Charlie," I smiled, dipping my head. "Learned it from a book."

"Strange," he frowned, eyes flickering from Norbert and I to Draco. "I thought you were going to be alone." It wasn't difficult to miss how his eyes lingered on the Slytherin crest, and on Draco himself. No doubt he knew exactly who'd accompanied me.

"Norbert proved to be a little difficult to carry," I grinned, and he stepped forward to help me hoist the crate towards their brooms, never taking his gaze from Draco. He had to, however, when Norbert's snout shot upwards between the wiring of the crate, and tried to take a snap at him.

"Seems to be a little difficult all around," Charlie winked at me, and behind us, I heard Draco scoff. As I helped Ron's brother secure the crate between, he sauntered into my field of vision, arms crossed, smug look on his features.

"Difficult doesn't even describe that thing." He shook his head, as if any moment now Charlie was going to agree with him and prove me crazy. By the way the elder Weasley's eyes had lit up at seeing Norbert when he and his friend had landed, I highly doubted that. As I leaned down to Norbert's eye-level, my face at the door of the crate, I could practically feel the disdain in his voice touch my arm. "Except it seems to fancy her."

"Yes, it sure does," Charlie beamed, first down at Norbert, then at me. "You picked up that trick from _The Finer Art of Dragonkeeping_ by Harvey Ridgebit, didn't you? Established the sanctuary I worked at in Romania, you know."

My eyes widened, practically bulging out of my head, making him chuckle. As my cheeks flamed, I managed to stammer, "H-He did? Ron told me w-where you worked, but I didn't think…"

"Yes, well, perhaps Ron'll take you to visit next year," Charlie grinned. "I'm sure Mum would love having his friends over."

And with that, he turned, mounting his broom and giving us a quick wave before he and his friend kicked off, the crate balancing between them. It wasn't long before they were simple specks against the night sky again.

"Careful," Draco spoke up then, causing me to jump. I'd nearly forgotten he was there. "You're drooling."

"I most certainly am no—" But when I turned to offer him the glare that accompanied my objection, he was already halfway to the portrait hole at the base of the stairs. Cheeks flaming again, I stalked off after him.

* * *

"I'd like to say something," I said, once we'd slipped past the statue and back into the Common Room, finally having decided what I wanted to say to thank him, because damn it all, he _had_ been helpful tonight, even if that hadn't been his first plan.

Slowly, he turned, one brow rising cautiously. "Would you?"

"I, um… I'd like to thank you. For helping me with Norbert. Even if you didn't want to."

"Monster wasn't so bad, I suppose. If you don't count the part where he tried to bite my hand off. Can't say the same from Weasley's brother, though."

"What's wrong with Charlie? I thought he was perfectly nice."

"Right. A complete nutter, that one. Just like—"

"Back to normal then, are you?" I sounded far more unpleasant than I'd meant to, but it got the desired result—he faltered mid-speech, frowning. I clamped my mouth shut, stepping past him, but he reached out, grabbing my arm and stopping me.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

I tilted my head, frowning at him. "Despite all your complaining, you helped me out with Norbert tonight, you really did. It was different, for you. A side of you that I wasn't quite sure existed." The frown on his features did not fade, so I pulled my arm away, taking a step backwards, towards the stairs leading to the dorm rooms. "You should acknowledge its existence more often."

And with that, I disappeared upstairs.

* * *

It was Wednesday the next week when I found myself atop the Astronomy Tower again, taking far more time than everyone else to pack up my things. I'd told Hermione and Tracey not to wait around for me, so they were already off, giving me a wave before they disappeared down the stairs, Ron and Harry not far behind.

Once everyone else had cleared out, I began tidying up, across the room from my mother, who, although she was doing the same, was watching me. By the time I'd made it through three star-gazing stations, she spoke; "What's the matter, then?"

"Hmm?" I looked up at her, all innocence. She met me with a knowing stare.

"I appreciate the help cleaning up, but you're never without motive. So what's bothering you?"

I fidgeted uneasily, unsure where to begin. Absently, I tugged at the bracelet under my sleeve. Did I want to ask her about the things hidden in my trunk? The items I hadn't touched since I'd discovered them, too afraid of the reality I would have to face. Or, did I want to know why this simple piece of string, two strands of yellow and green with a silver bead, was so familiar?

Given that she'd already failed to tell me the truth about the first subject, I thought it safer to take a cautious approach on the second. I rolled my sleeves upwards, and didn't miss as her eyes caught sight of the string bracelet around my wrist, widening. She masked it quickly, frowning, but it was too late, I'd caught the recognition. "Mum?"

"Where did you get that?"

"I got it on my birthday." Not a lie, technically.

"From where?"

"A friend." Still not lyiiiing.

"_Elena_." Bugger. There was _that_ tone.

"Draco gave it to me."

"Lucius' son?"

I'm not sure what I was more worried about—the fact that she wasn't throwing a fit, or the fact that she'd called him Lucius? "…yes?" I managed, quite weakly.

Her brows creased into a frown, and her lips parted to say, very lightly, "I was afraid so."

I'm sorry, what? She was _afraid_ that… hang on, that meant she knew about this mystery, too! That meant this was another ruddy thing she was keeping from me (though, really, I was quite sure it was the first look she'd gotten at it, if we're up for defending her here). My eyes narrowed, and my grip on my right wrist tightened fervently. When she said nothing, merely sighed and turned away, _I _frowned as well. "Afraid of what, Mum?"

"Hmm?"

Oh, har har. The innocent card. Yes, that's cute mother. Such a pity I _inherited_ it. "Mum," I stepped closer, voice dropping. "Do you recognize my bracelet?" Still, no answer. "Where'd Draco get it from?"

"From you, I suppose. It's yours."

Her voice was barely above a whisper, but since I'd crossed the classroom to stand next to her, by the railing, I caught every word. Not that it did much to help the chill creeping up my spine, mind you. No, not at all. "Mine?"

"At least, it was. Quite some time ago. You left it there, when you were little. Suppose he thought it would be funny to return it to you now. Might've even been Lucius' idea."

I blinked. Repeatedly. Several times. Because apparently, unbeknownst to me, Mum had gone barking. Completely barking mad. Without telling me. Awful nice of her, don't you think? "M-Mine?" I spluttered, which, in my defense, I _had_ gathered, what with it seeming familiar and having a bloody _E_ on it. Which would've been for anything, really, but obviously _E_, name's _Elena_, I'm a selfish prat, and you know, it all kind of fit together for me. "Mum, you're not making a whit of sense. What are you talking about?"

"I made that for you, _with_ you, when you were just a baby. You picked out the colors—funny, too, considering they turned out to be your favorite, growing up—and I made it for you. Long enough you could wear it as you grew, too, which is good, since it seems to fit you nicely enough now."

"Yes, bracelet, very pretty. Got it. How does Draco fit into this? How did he get a hold of it? Why didn't_ I_ have it?"

She opened her mouth to speak, then clamped it shut again, frowning, as if she wasn't quite sure how to word it—or if she _wanted_ to word it. Her brown eyes found by blue ones, and she sighed. "I'm sure you've noticed Lucius Malfoy and I seem to be acquainted, yes?"

"At Boring and Burkes, yes."

"Hadn't had the misfortune of seeing him for years before that. Not since you lost that," she said, pointing to my wrist, leaning against the railing. "You were three, I think. We were…," she looked at me here, and it took all I had not to stop her, tell her I didn't need to know, because from the look in her eyes, she _really_ didn't want to be telling this story, reliving it, _whatever_. "Things were different back then, sweetie. _I _was different. There were some people I knew, who, well, weren't all the right sort, okay? And because we shared similar acquaintances, I had no say in _not_ seeing them."

She was dancing around the whole truth, I knew. The way she was wording things, it was off, and I knew that. But I didn't care. A strange feeling had settled in the pit of my stomach, and I knew she didn't need to do details. I could do simple math, add things together, thank you.

_Of course, you would've been too young when your f—_

Similar acquaintances. Father. Same rubbish, really.

"Elena?" she called, and I looked up, blinking again. "Are you listening?"

"Er, well—"

So she repeated the bit I'd missed. "The Malfoy family happened to fall under that category, and so, on occasion, we found ourselves entertained for lunch at the Manor."

_Lunch at the Manor._ She said it so casually. The dread in the pit of my stomach said otherwise.

"You were in the garden, playing with Draco. I think it must've gotten caught on something, your bracelet, because the next thing I knew you were running over, crying and showing me your scratched wrist." I chanced a glance at her, to see a wistful look in her eyes as she gazed upwards at the stairs—_our_ stars.

"How do I… how do I not remember this? I mean, Draco's kind of a git. I think I'd remember growing up with someone like him."

"You didn't," she said quickly. "That was the last time we saw them, as it happened." She coughed, indicating we were done with telling the truth, judging by how red in the face she'd gotten all of a sudden. "Things with work and such, you know? People changing?"

I hummed, unable to form words. I had known _Draco_ when I was a toddler? And his _family_? Because of my… I pictured what lay in my trunk then, and screwed my eyes shut, willing it all away. Willing it to just _leave me alone_ right now.

It made sense. Explained why he'd seemed familiar to me, that day at Borgin and Burkes, and again on the train. Crabbe and Goyle, too, if they'd been friends with him so young, so early. It all just… it still wasn't making much sense, and I was starting to wish I could just forget about it.

"Elena, are you alright?"

"Fine, just a bit of a headache." Well, if she was done telling the truth, I may as well be… I pinched the bridge of my nose, for added flair. "Thank you, though. For clearing that up." I smiled up at her as brightly as possible, telling her I was calling it an evening and heading back to the dorms to pass out on my four-poster.

I didn't make it three feet. "_Elena_."

"Yes, Mum?"

"I meant what I said, that day at Borgin and Burkes. About Draco's father. About Draco. I don't want Malfoy, of any sort, around my daughter."

"Might be a little difficult, us being in the same House and all, Mum." Wit had apparently _not_ been the ideal choice to go with there.

"_Elena_."

"Alright, alright," I muttered, waving a hand at her as I turned away, starting for the stairs. _I'll think about it_.

* * *

_**e-lide  
**_**verb: Omit (a sound of syllable) when speaking: "elided consonants or vowels."**

**Okay, so I'm taking it to mean the scarce memories of when she was, y'know, three have been **_**omitted **_**from memory, or how her mother **_**omitted**_** events from that conversation, but whatever. Work with me here.**

**So you know she's got a bit of a past involving the Malfoys and such. And you know it's got to do with her father. But let me kindly repeat, for all curious minds out there who may ponder and ask, _Snape is NOT the father_. Ahem. Just making that clear, if it wasn't already. Thanks.**

**Thank you to everyone who's been reviewing. You're all brill, really. I appreciate it loads more than you prolly think. The next chapter (CH20: What Lurks In The Dark) will be out Monday.  
**


	20. What Lurks in the Dark

**Chapter Twenty: What Lurks in the Dark?**

* * *

Filch had been going on and on about the old punishments since we'd left the dungeons a good ten minutes ago. I'd stop listening when he'd gotten to the part about thumbs. I didn't want to know what else he felt nostalgic about tonight. Not when I had the whole bloody Forbidden Forest ahead of me to worry about. Because that's where we were going, for real. Into the forest, you know, the one that's _forbidden_? With Hagrid.

Hagrid, who stood at the base of the hill with Fang, sniffling as he waited for us, a sad look hanging on his face. He'd been like this for a week now, ever since I'd taken Norbert and sent him off with Charlie, which as far as the three Gryffindors beside me knew, I'd done alone.

We'd done our share of visiting him and trying to cheer him up.

"_We beat Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw this week, did you see?"_ Harry had thought the mention of Hagrid's favourite house team—theirs—doing well at Quidditch would do the job.

"_Mum says Charlie's great with dragons and the lot, Hagrid. We'll be fine!"_ Ron figured offering to send an owl to his brother to get news would help.

"_He'll be with his own kind, Hagrid. It's better for him._" Hermione, ever the one for logic, tried the simple truth. None of it worked. He still stood before us, on the night of our detention the following Thursday, looking as upset as ever.

"Get a grip on yourself, man," Filch sighed as we came before the groundskeeper. "Can't be going into the forest without your wits tonight."

"The Forest?" a voice quivered to my left, and I nearly jumped. I'd forgotten Draco was here, too. Which was surprising, because judging from the eye-rolling going on in Ron's direction, it wasn't the first time since we'd left the castle the blonde boy had seen it fit to complain. "I thought that was a joke," he spluttered. "We can't go in there. Students aren't allowed! And there are…" his voice dropped a pitch, and he looked around a moment, "werewolves."

Far to my right, Ron and Harry erupted into a fit of laughter, making Draco's face twist into a nasty glare. Hermione and I sighed, trying to wave them into silence. But in the end, it was Filch who shut them up. "There's more than werewolves in those trees, lad. You can be sure of that."

With one final crooked grin at all of us, Filch turned away and slowly made his way back towards the castle, leaving us with Hagrid. Clearing his throat, he straightened, and pulled two smaller lanterns from his gigantic coat. He lit them, and then held them out towards the five of us. Hermione and I were the first to step forth, taking them in hand, and following him as he started into the forest.

"What exactly are we doing, Hagrid?" I asked, trying to keep up. Rather difficult, when the lot of us barely reached his chest.

"You'll see in a moment." I couldn't exactly imagine what detention would be like in the Forbidden Forest until we reached _it_. Well, it wasn't exactly an it. It could've belonged to a she or a he, once upon a time, but it didn't any longer, so there wasn't much dwelling on it, was there?

A simple pool of silver lay amongst the leaves at the base of a tree-trunk, a bright contrast against the dark underbrush of the forest, glimmering in the moonlight. "H-Hagrid," Hermione stammered. "Is that…well, does it…"

"It's what we're here for," he stated, kneeling down, jabbing one large finger into the puddle. Shiny tendrils of it trickled to the ground as he rubbed it between his fingers. "Unicorn blood. I foun' one dead a few weeks back. Now, this one's been hurt bad by somethin'. So, it's our job to go and find the poor beast. Ron, Hermione—" She latched onto my arm, and I nearly dropped the lantern. From the look on Hagrid's face, I didn't exactly think that's how he was planning on working this out. But before I could say anything, I heard Draco huff to my right.

"Fine. If I'm stuck with Potter, I get Fang!" he exclaimed, and a chuckle rumbled from Hagrid's chest, and I felt it in my toes, ever so slightly.

Hagrid shrugged. "Right. Jus' so you knows, he's a bloody coward." As Draco moved closer to the dog, Fang whined softly, his tail falling slightly between his legs.

Harry exchanged a look with Ron. "He's not the only one, I see."

"Speaking of yourself there, Potter?" Draco snapped, but it held none of its usual bite.

"I'm not the one shaking in my boots, Malfoy."

"Stuff it. I just shivered. It's cold."

"Right, snakes don't like the cold, do they?"

I could almost see the daggers fly in the air between their glares, so I stepped forward, gripping the lantern in my hand tightly. "I'll go with them."

"W-What?" Hermione reached out for my arm again, but I was already too far ahead.

"I don't fancy them killing each other, do you?" I hissed at her, making Ron snort.

"Well, dependant on who wins—" Hermione smacked his arm, and that was the end of it.

With one last nod at the two of them, left standing beside Hagrid, I was off with Harry and Draco, one on each side, Fang drifting slightly ahead of us, emitting a soft whine every few meters. And it was surprising I caught them, really, with the incessant babbling to my right.

"Wait 'till my father hears about this!" Malfoy snorted, narrowly avoiding a root that could've tripped him. Pity. Might've shut him up. "This is servant stuff."

"If I didn't know better," I chuckled; the lantern wobbling as I nearly lost my footing. "I'd say Ron and Harry were right; you're scared."

"Well you know better. Because I'm not."

"Oh, I'm _sure_," I said, sounding not the least bit convinced. His eyes narrowed, and Harry stifled a laugh.

"And you're better, are you?" he snapped. "You can barely keep your grip on that lantern with all your shaking." I tightened my grip, glaring, my chin sticking up just a little higher than before. He didn't miss it, and a smug grin spread onto his features. I huffed.

"I'm quite sure _you're_ the only baby around, Draco. You practically wet yourself when Filch said there were worse things than werewolves in this forest."

"Did you hear that?" He stopped, all of a sudden, and I thought for sure it was to spook me, to take a crack at me for having laughed at him. Only, his eyes were wide as he turned towards the sound he'd heard, and I spotted _real_ fear in them. I followed his gaze, because either he was a really good actor, or…

My free hand flew to his arm the second I spotted it, and I bit my bottom lip to shut in the scream building in my throat. I saw him glance at me, from the corner of my eye, and he opened his mouth to say something, but my foot stomped over his, and that was that.

We'd found the unicorn. And as much as it was our job to examine it, make sure it was alright, I was quite sure it _wasn't_, therefore needed to _examining_. That, and I wanted to do the exact opposite. I wanted to shout. To hide. To run. Definitely run. Running sounded like a wonderful idea, actually. Save for the fact that my legs were stuck together, as if someone had cast a Super Sticking Charm between my shoes and the ground.

Because the unicorn was dead, _definitely_ dead, and above it crouched a figure, hooded and barely distinguishable in the dark. Unless you were standing beside a creature so white and so pure you looked anything but. I didn't want to think about whomever—_whatever_—and what it was doing, but it wasn't hard to imagine.

The lantern fell from my grasp, hitting the ground and shattering.

The whole world ended.

Well, not really. Pretty close, though.

Because the…the _thing_ heard it—how couldn't it?—and turned, very _very_ slowly towards us. And all I could see beneath the hood were its lips, and its tongue, licking at the silver blood dribbling down its chin. I felt my stomach flip, ready to be sick.

Draco opened his mouth to yell, to shout, to say _something_, but I couldn't let him, and clamped my free hand—you know, the one that had been carrying the lantern until I'd been stupid enough to _drop_ it?—over his mouth, too afraid of noise. Not that it mattered, the thing was already drawing itself to full height—_too tall! too tall!—_and a hissing had begun to fill the air.

And that's all I saw of it.

Because Draco had grabbed hold of one of my hands, turned his back on the gruesome scene, and _ran_. And my legs, magically and suddenly oh-so-compliant, gave chase, blindly following him. The dark forest became a bit of a blur around us as he pulled me along, and thankfully, not being able to see anything without the lantern brought me to my senses. My heels dug into the ground, stopping us both on our tracks, nearly pulling him back into me. He whirled around, eyes wild.

"What?"

"Harry!"

"Potter?"

_Merlin_, I wanted to hit him.

"We've just left him with that _thing_! We have to go get him!"

"Are you _mad_? Did you _see_ it, Elena?"

"It's going to kill him, Draco! We have to go—"

"If Potter doesn't have the sense to save his own hide, then maybe—"

"Don't you dare! Don't you _dare_ say that! You're a coward, Draco Malfoy. You _ran_!" And yes, I'd been thinking of doing the same thing, but psh, he didn't need to know that.

"You were just as scared as I was back there!"

"And you don't think Harry wasn't? You _saw_ it, Draco! You saw what it did to that unicorn! You _know_ what it's going to do to Harry if it gets its hands—claws—fangs—_whatever it'll use to tear him limb from limb!"_

"Tearin' him limb from limb? Fang hasn't found a squirrel 'as he? He hates the ruddy buggers."

And I wasn't sure what alarmed me more. The sudden sound of Hagrid's voice, very amused, or the fact that he'd mentioned Fang, who had been with us, and oh _Merlin, _if something happened to the poor beast because I'd been too stupid to—

"Funny. He looks fine," said Ron, leaning down to pat Fang—_where the hell had he come from_?—behind the ears. Only the dog whined loudly and made his way behind Ron, cowering, who looked up, frowning. "Where's Harry?"

I swear to _all that is magical_ I didn't mean to cry. I didn't. It's just, the way Ron was looking at me—and Hermione and Hagrid, too—and the way Draco stood there beside me, kicking at the ground, fidgeting, his hand still closed around mine…I snapped.

I tugged my hand from his grasp, balled it into a fist, and socked him as hard as I could manage in the shoulder. Once, twice, three times. And suddenly I was standing there, punching him in the arm, tears streaming down my face, babbling like a madwoman.

"You…made…Harry…behind…that…thing…murder…awful…"

Thankfully (for him, anyway, I still wanted to have a go), Hermione thought to pull me away. She couldn't quite manage it, given that I was just a smidge taller, and stronger, and so Ron had to do it for her. "What happened? What's wrong? _'Lena_?"

That's all it took. Hermione's simple, worried use of my childhood nickname, and I was bawling in her arms. I'd forgotten all about beating the snot out of Draco, who I was pointing at weakly with one hand. "We found the…the unicorn. It was d-dead. Some…_thing_ was feeding on it and…and he pulled me away…and…Harry…Harry was just standing there….Harry—"

I saw Ron lunge, saw the anger on his face as he headed for Draco. Guess he'd put two and two together. Only, he didn't make it there. Just like I never made it to the end of my story. Because there was a clattering of hooves too loud to be normal that broke the air. And a shadow too large to belong to whatever had been feeding on the unicorn that passed overhead. A tremor that shook the earth beneath my feet too big to belong to any of us—even Hagrid.

And when I looked up, I found myself staring at a half-naked man on a horse.

Okay, no. Let's reword that. Sorry.

A half-naked man that was…_part_ of a horse. Yes. That's better. Sort of.

"Ohmygosh," Hermione gasped beside me, her hands flying to cover her mouth. "A centaur!" There you go. That's even better. Straight from the mouth of my personal encyclopedia. Five points to Gryffindor, bookworm best mate. Well, _imaginary_ points, anyway.

But the centaur—as magnificent as he was—isn't what caught my attention. The boy sitting on his back, who unceremoniously thudded to the ground seconds after he pulled to a stop before us. And while everyone was quiet, speechless and staring, I bolted forward, not caring how much of a dolt I looked like careening towards Harry, throwing my arms around him in a flurry of tears.

"You're-alright-I-thought-the-worst-I-thought-you-were-dead-that-thing-was-so-scary-and-I'm-so-sorry-we-left-you-I-never-would've—"

"Elena. Elena, it's okay," Harry soothed, his hands patting at my back. "I'm alright. I'm fine."

"Harry Potter," a deep rumbling and rather unfamiliar voice sounded then, and I looked up, eyes wide, staring at the centaur. "This is where I leave you. You are safe. Good luck."

"Thank you," said Harry, and as he turned to leave, the centaur acknowledge another—Hagrid—bowing his head. The giant nodded back, and the centaur was gone, pounding through the forest. It was in the ensuing silence I thought it intelligent enough to detach myself from Harry, and sock Draco in the arm again.

"Ow! Bloody hell, Elena!"

"You deserve it," I sniffled, before looking at Hagrid. "Does this mean we can go? Or did you need to…to see it, too?" I shuddered. "The unicorn?"

"I know where she is, now," he shook his large head, his beard rustling side to side. "I'll come back in the morning' an' get her. I think you lot have had enough for one night, no?"

And so, we made our way out of the forest, guided only by two lanterns now (which I apologized profusely to Hagrid for as we walked, but he honestly didn't give a whit about a ruddy lantern, if we were safe), not moving an inch away from Harry's side. I'd left him once back there, and I wasn't about to do it again.

Ever.

* * *

**Et voila, your featured Monday update. The infamous forbidden forest scene with Elena's added flair. Next up is the toil and trouble of Hogwarts finals in CH21: First Time on the Pitch, and no, it's nothing like it sounds. Lemme know what you thought, hmm?**


	21. First Time on the Pitch

**Chapter Twenty-One: First Time on the Pitch**

* * *

"My scar hurt, that's how I knew."

My brows creased into a skeptical frown. "Harry, your scar hurts _all the time_. During classes. During breakfast, lunch and dinner. Sometimes even during Quidditch. Are you going to tell me You-Know-Who is a bloody student?"

"I don't _know_, Elena. But it was _him_, drinking from the unicorn. He's living off them, Firenze said so."

"Wait, _Firenze_?"

"The…The centaur. I mentioned that, didn't I?"

I blinked, rather stupidly. "Yes, Harry, but you didn't mention _he _thought it was You-Know-Who as well."

"I didn't think, I _know_!"

My hands flew up, palms flat, showing him I meant no harm. "Okay, okay. I'm sorry. It's just, well, what am I supposed to think? I was raised to believe he's been gone since that night, Harry. Since the night you…," I trailed off, my eyes drifting upwards to glance at his scar, unable to complete my sentence. But he knew what I meant, because he nodded, and when he next spoke, his voice was softer.

"I know that. But I also know what I saw. That was _him_ the other night_,_ Elena, it was Vol—"

I held up a hand, silencing him, shaking my head fiercely. "You know how I feel about using his name, Harry." I sighed, slouching in my seat in the crook of the tree trunk where we sat, trying to study for our forthcoming finals, but failing miserably. "But I believe you, yeah? It's just, if that was him the other night, in the forest, do you think, maybe, that he…well, do you think we should worry he might—"

"He was going to, the other night, if Firenze hadn't come along," he said, shuffling the papers on his lap, his voice a little thick with worry. "Kill me, I mean. If he had his chance, he would've. And I would've just stood there, like a prat…"

"Harry, I…I'm sorry. _So_ sorry for leaving," I grimaced, but he shook his head.

"It's not your fault. Malfoy dragged you off. If it hadn't been for him…"

"Sodding coward, Malfoy," I huffed, crossing my arms, leaving my Charms notes untouched.

"So its Malfoy now, is it? What happened to Draco?" Harry chuckled. "You're the only one of us that called him that. Why the sudden change?"

"Because he's a bloody prat, that's why. And until that changes, I see no point in being friendly."

Though silence settled between us, my mind continued to wander. If that hooded figure we'd seen the other night in the forest was truly You-Know-Who, feeding off that poor unicorn... Well, Hagrid had said it wasn't the first, hadn't he? If he'd been feeding off more than just the one last night, if he'd been doing this for quite some time…

"Bloody hell," I exclaimed, and Harry turned to look at me, one eyebrow raised. "Unicorn blood. It…well, it's just about the purest of substances around. If…if someone—or some_thing_—were ever to be horrid enough to slay such a beast and drink its blood, well, it would prolong their lifespan. And he…he was drinking it, when we found him?"

"He's living off of it," Harry nodded. "That's what Firenze told me. But it won't keep him long. Eventually he'll wither away."

"Because you're cursed once you drink from unicorn blood," I nodded.

"Right, which is why, if he got his hands on something that could _prolong_ his life, somehow cheat that curse, some kind of _Elixir_…"

I gasped, suddenly realizing what he was implying. "Oh, Harry, you don't think—"

"That's exactly what I think! Don't you see, Elena? We couldn't figure why Snape would want the Stone for himself. And that's because he doesn't. He wants it for Vol—" the cross look I sent him was enough to have him thinking of his words, "You-Know-You. With the Elixir of Life, he'll become strong again. He…He'll come back."

"And you're afraid he'll try and finish what he started the other night, don't you?"

"I'm afraid that's exactly what'll happen."

I reached over, my hand settling over his, a smile spreading across my lips. "It won't, Harry. It won't happen. Not while we're around. And not while Dumbledore's around, either. He's the _one_ wizard You-Know-Who has always feared. And as long as he's around, Harry, you're safe. As long as he's around, you can't be touched."

A smile broke out across his lips, mirroring mine, and he squeezed my hand, nodding. "Careful, Elena," he tapped the back of my hand with his free one, before grabbing hold of his Potions notes. "You're beginning to sound like Hermione."

"Oh, sod off, Harry," I grinned, a laugh escaping my lips. "And finish studying. The Potions final is first next Monday."

"Yes, I _know_. We can't all have your brilliant talent for Potions, now can we…," he grinned, before adding, as an afterthought, "_Hermione_."

"Harry!"

* * *

**Elena's Brill List Of Finals Rubbish**

_**Yesterday:**_

- Potions Final – Check (admittedly not as difficult as Harry and Ron were worried it would be)

- D.A.D.A Final – Check (through which Harry's scar itched, I failed miserably in trying to _not_ tell him "I told you so", and Hermione stressed herself _far too much_ over wording the answer to a question correctly or not.)

**_Today_:**

- Charms Final – Check (a breeze when you've got Hermione, a total loon for Charms, as your best mate. No really, my textbook barely even opened a crack this whole year.)

- Studystudystudystudy because Herbology is looming on the horizon (and, more stressingly, _Flying_, but since that is _performance_ and not _written_, I'm already buggered.)

**_Tomorrow_:**

- Herbology Final – keepstudyingkeepstudying

- Astronomy Final – shall ace with eyes closed, much love, Mum

- Stress over Flying exam

**_Thursday_:**

- Transfiguration Final – keep calm and write exam, trying not to hyperventilate, because after this exam, my life is going to end

- Die of extreme nervous breakdown

- Do not get chance to be present for Flying exam, because I'll be dead

For the third time since finishing the list at the bottom of my Herbology notes, I banged my head against the table, a groan of frustration escaping my lips. Across from me, I heard the pages of Tracey's Herbology textbook flutter slightly as she sighed. "Elena?"

I grunted in response.

"Something wrong?"

Another grunt.

The pages fluttered again and her textbook closed. She leaned forward, her shadow falling across the small vision of the table I still possessed, with my forehead pressed against it. I felt her light touch on my hand as she moved my Herbology notes from underneath it.

"Anything you'd like to tell me?"

A huff, this time. "No."

"Anything relating to brooms? To air? To that main ingredient that makes Quidditch oh-so-interesting? You know, the f—"

"Don't say it!" I cried, lifting a hand haphazardly in her direction. "Don't utter the name of my killer, please."

"It's not going to kill you, you twit," she laughed, coming around the table and taking a seat beside me, nudging me with her elbow. "It's a just a silly exam. A _first year_ exam."

"The _only one_ for the ruddy class! And I _hate_ it! I'm absolute _rubbish_ at it!" For each sentence, my head tapped against the table. "Why the hell's the class mandatory, anyway? Hooch takes pleasure out of torturing us, I'll bet you ten galleons."

"Bit of a hefty price, even for you, isn't it Elena?"

My Trace, your voice sure has gotten deeper. And more annoying. And more git-ish.

Oh wait, that's not you. That's just bloody Malfoy. Because, you know, this day doesn't suck enough already, right? I knew we should've taken to the library to study instead of the Common Room. I _told_ her. But did she listen? Not bloody likely. Because apparently, the Common Room was more comfortable, more relaxing. Clearly, she didn't figure him into those calculations.

Her "Can we help you, Draco?" met my "What do you want, Malfoy?" somewhere in the middle, and I heard him chuckle.

"Something bothering her?"

"You."

"Flying Final."

"Tracey!"

"The Flying exam, huh? Funny, it's still two days away. Shouldn't you be worrying about the two before then?"

"There are three," Tracey corrected, and he scoffed.

"And one's Astronomy, so by definition it doesn't count with her."

I looked up, finally, a glare set in place. It didn't faze him. The smug smile on his lips never wavered. "Why bother? Haven't you heard? I'm going to die on Thursday." And my forehead calmly resumed its place on the table again. I heard him sigh. Tracey, too. I heard a faint whisper, like the kind you make when you talk, just ever so slightly, while trying to mouth something to someone. I heard footsteps.

"Come on, Elena. I'll help you practice for the exam."

I felt my head drop into the pit of my stomach.

I'm sorry, what? My eyes, incredulous, drifted upwards to look at him, having switched places with Tracey, holding out his hand to me. The smug smile was gone. This one looked real, but there was no denying that shred of doubt in my mind. "And you plan on doing that how?"

"We'll borrow some brooms from the Quidditch pitch lock-up. It's where Filch keeps the confiscated ones from first years stupid enough to try bringing them."

"And you know that why?"

"I've been playing Quidditch since I was a boy. It's in my blood. Plus, Crabbe was stupid enough to bring a broom. Bleeding stupid bloke that he is. Surprised they never took away Potter's, really. No matter how brilliant he's supposed to be."

He was nice, offering to help (which at this point my mind had apparently decided he _was indeed _sincere about), but the mention of Harry, just going the extra bit to take a shot at him, it set me off. "Funny, don't see _your_ father's name in the Trophy Room."

He winced, quickly, but it was gone in an instant, replaced by a shrug. "I deserved that, I'm sure. And you can take the mickey out of me later, alright? Right now, I'm going to help you ace that Flying exam. So get up, and let's get going."

Over his shoulder, Tracey was sending me all sorts of ridiculous hand signals telling me to go. And really, what other choice did I have? I wasn't about to bother Harry or Ron, because they were hard at work on their Herbology stuff (given that they _never_ paid attention), and after that, they'd be focusing on Transfiguration (they should've taken McGonagall up on the offer to make one of them a pocket-watch. It honestly would've given them a better chance.) And Hermione? Well, this was the _one_ class I couldn't go to her for. She was just as rubbish as I was, if not _worse_.

I was starting to see I didn't have a choice.

Groaning, I pushed myself to my feet, offering him a level gaze. "Fine. Lead the way."

* * *

I'd never been on the Quidditch pitch before. I've had no reason to. Flying classes are done on the grounds, in the courtyard, and I can watch games and practice perfectly fine from the stands. But there is certainly something to be said about being _on_ the pitch.

Feeling so small beneath the towering goal posts and game stands. Feeling the grassy field beneath my shoes. Imagining what it would be like to lay there and watch the stars on a clear night. My eyes drifted upwards to watch Draco—Malfoy? Weren't we calling him Malfoy now? Traitorous brain—hiking back across the pitch from the lock-up at the base of the teacher's stands, a broom in each hand. The anxiety that had only been churning in the depths of my stomach, nearly forgotten as I admired the view, came bubbling to the surface now, eager. I wanted to be sick.

"All right there, Elena?" he asked when he came to a stop before me.

"I think I might be mental," I breathed, reading his grey-blue eyes, my own refusing to acknowledge the brooms he carried. "I thought at least I'd survive long enough to write the Herbology and Transfiguration finals. And Mum's. Now I see that it'll be here, on the pitch, days earlier than expected, that I'll meet my demise."

"It's not going to kill you," he chuckled, tossing one of the brooms to the ground at his feet, and reaching out, offering me the other. I stared at it; quite sure I'd amassed all of my hatred for the damned object into one boiling look. "Elena; take it. I promise, you're not going to die. Or fail."

"Are you quite aware you're dealing with probably _the_ most flying-challenged person on the planet? Even more than Muggles, I'll bet you ten galleons."

"Didn't we establish that's a bit out of your betting comfort?" he grinned, sticking the broom in my hand and mounting the one he'd let hit the grass. "Now, relax. You're going to do fine. I was nervous when I first learned. And I was real little."

"Who taught you?" I asked, distracting myself as I reluctantly slid onto the death-trap.

"My dad," he said, and a wistful smile played on his lips. He kicked off, hovering slightly. "I told you; it's in my blood. I'm a shoe-in for the house team next year, I'd bet." I scoffed, he grinned. In _second_? Wasn't that a bit young? Disregarding Harry, of course. Second years usually made reserves, at the least. "I'd make a wager with you, but, well…"

"Shut it," I found myself grinning, and before I realized what was happening, I was eye-level with him again. I looked down, and my heart sunk into my stomach. I was…I was off the ground. When…When had that happened? Before I could panic, his voice snapped me back.

"Just relax. You're doing fine."

"How? I'm not even focused! It just…happened."

"Because you're at ease."

"Hardly."

He circled me, coming to hover close, his hand touching the edge of my broom. "Let's try this. Close your eyes, tell me a story. Pretend we're just sitting in the Common Room. Relax, and try to picture yourself there. And just listen to my instructions as we go."

I scoffed again. "That sounds like rubbish. That's not going to work."

"I bet you otherwise. And since we've established betting with money isn't your thing, since you shoot far too high, I'll wager my tryouts for the house team next year."

"You'll _what_?"

"If you make it through this lesson today, and fail the exam on Thursday, then I won't bother trying out for the house team next year. But if you pass—because _I _helped you—then you've got to come to tryouts and watch me wipe the floor with all of them."

I hesitated. I thought about saying no. It sounded mental, all of it. But then, I was mental for even _being_ here, so really, what did I have to lose? And besides, if it came down to it—_if_, because I was in no way convinced _Draco_ could help me pass my ruddy _flying_ final—it made sense that I might watch the tryouts for the Slytherin team for fun, right? They were _my _house team, after all. It didn't _need_ to be for _him_.

And I could drag Tracey with me.

"It's a deal," I grinned, offering him my hand to shake.

* * *

**And there you have it. Quite the hatred for one another Elena and Flying Class have. Perhaps this will do her some good. Perhaps I'll be featuring second year tryouts in the story when I get there. Who knows. La la la, carry on. Read, review, enjoy, and await the next chapter, where finals have been (relatively) survived, and the foursome realizes it needs to take matters into their own hands in CH22: Not a Choice in the World.**


	22. Not a Choice in the World

**Chapter Twenty-Two: Not a Choice in the World**

* * *

Bloody hell. I was going to be watching the Slytherin Quidditch tryouts next year. I was actually…I'd passed! _Flying_! Not with flying colors or anything—har har, I'm hilarious, if only Hogwarts had comedy classes, I'd be set for life—but still, I'd passed the single most terrifying class all year, and that was saying something. He'd actually done it. And here I thought all that 'close your eyes and talk to me' rubbish was nonsense.

And he knew it, too. Because he wasn't waiting for me outside the courtyard where Hooch was holding the finals, worried like Harry, Ron and Hermione. No, he was a few feet off, leaning against the wall with Goyle, waiting for Crabbe, who'd been next in line after me. He smiled at me as I approached my friends, and the smugness contained in the gesture said it all. I couldn't even formulate a solid insult in my own head for him. He'd _helped_!

"Well?" Hermione spoke up, breaking my eye contact with Draco as her head of bushy hair came into view. "How did it go?"

"I passed," I shrugged, as if it weren't a big deal, when between the two of us, I'd been far more nervous going in. She exhaled, her shoulders dropping with relief.

"Brilliant," she smiled, flopping back into her seat on the bench beside the boys. "We were all nervous for nothing, you know. About Hogwarts final exams."

"_Were_ we now?" Ron snickered, knowing quite well she'd been the only one of us, on Sunday night, to have pulled out our own hair in a fit of stress.

"Oh, _be quiet_, Ronald," she shook her head. "Anyway, I don't know what the fuss was about. I found them to be rather enjoyable."

"Speak for yourself." He looked up at me, grinning. "Happy with your mark, at least?"

"Couldn't of been happier unless it was a bloody _dragon_ I'd been flying on." To Ron's left, Harry, who until now had been quiet, one hand pressing against his forehead, likely because his scar was hurting again, gasped, stood up, and stared at me with wide eyes. "All right there, Harry?"

"A dragon, that's it," he said, snapping his fingers. When we all frowned, at a loss of just what the _hell_ he was talking about, he went on. "Don't you think, that the _one_ thing Hagrid wants more than anything in the whole world is a dragon, and that some stranger turns up, who just _happens_ to have one? I mean, how many people wander around with dragon eggs in their pockets?"

"Given that it's illegal—well, surprisingly less than you'd expect," I shrugged. "But what's this got to do with anything?"

"He didn't pay for Norbert, you remember? He said the guy was happy to have it off his hands."

"What part of illegal is lost on you, mate?" Ron chuckled, but Harry wasn't laughing.

"He must've given the man _something_ for Norbert, don't you think?"

"I would. Even if it _is_ illegal, it would take something I'd want a lot more than a dragon to make me part with it for free."

"Would you take information? Instructions? On equally illegal _secret pets_, perhaps?" Harry asked, and it was then that I realized just what he was getting at. My hands flew to my mouth, a small gasp escaping my lips. Hermione didn't look much different.

"W-We need to speak with him, quickly," she said, and we were off.

* * *

"Hagrid!" we yelled, taking the steps down the hill towards his hut two at a time. He was seated on his front porch, a golden instrument pressed to his lips, a haunting melody meeting our ears as we got closer. "Hagrid!"

He stopped playing and looked up, smiling. "Hullo! What are you lot doing here? Done yer' exams already?"

"Just finished," Hermione informed him, but Harry was straight to the point.

"Hagrid, who gave you that dragon egg? What did he look like?"

The giant shrugged. "Never saw his face. Kept his hood up."

"You and he must have talked, right?"

"'Course," he nodded. "Wanted to know what sort of creatures I looked after. And I told him, after Fluffy, a dragon's gonna be no problem." He was beaming proudly, and it only served to wedge my heart deeper into the pit of my stomach. Ron looked pale, and Hermione, too.

"Did he seem interested in Fluffy?"

"Well o' course he was! How often do you come across three-headed dogs? Even if you're in the trade? But I told him, I says, _the trick with any beast is to know how to calm him_." As he spoke, his hands waved about, and I noticed the instrument was a flute. Hermione had gotten a silver one just like it a few years back from my Mum for Christmas. Her parents had her taking piano lessons by then, and the girl in the studio next to her played the flute. I'd told Mum she was fascinated by it, and from then on she had _two_ music lessons a week. "Take Fluffy, for example, just play him a bit of music and he falls straight asleep."

As Hermione and Ron gasped, staring mouths-agape at him, Harry and I exchanged worried looks. "And you told him that, did you?" I asked, voice quivering. "_Exactly_ that? And he gave you Norbert for it?"

"Well, yes, but what does that—wait, where are you goin'? Where are you—?"

It was too late; Harry and I were already halfway up the hill, Hermione and Ron hot on our heels.

* * *

We knew we had to go straight to Dumbledore, tell him everything we knew, regardless of the risk of getting in trouble. After all, it would mean admitting to having been in that out-of-bounds Third Floor corridor, and sneaking through Snape's office, and many _many_ other things we'd done to get to the bottom of this. But we _had_ gotten to the bottom of this, and it was only a matter of time before it was too late.

You-Know-Who wouldn't come near Harry while Dumbledore was around, sure. But that didn't mean Snape couldn't sneak past Fluffy and get the Stone right from under his nose, could it? Or have Quirrell do it for him? And then—brilliant Potions Master that he was, he could brew the Elixir and give it to You-Know-Who, who'd only have to wait until school let out next week, when Dumbledore was no longer an obstacle, and he could get to Harry at home, with his Muggle family. They'd have no chance! He could even do it on the train, for all we knew!

The only problem, of course, was that we had no idea how to _get_ to Dumbledore, up in his office, because a statue guarded the entrance, and without the password, we were never getting past it. So we settled for the next best thing—our Head of House, figuring that would cause the least problems and raise the least amount of questions. Well, _their_ Head of House. Mine was the main suspect, so it kind of went without saying he would've been the _wrong_ choice, no?

The four of us tore into the Transfiguration classroom as the last of the Third Years that had written their exam cleared out, and found Professor McGonagall at her desk, gathering her things. Her eyes flickered up at us over the rims of her glasses, inquisitive.

"Can I help—?"

"We need to see Professor Dumbledore immediately!" Harry blurted, and Ron snickered. I stomped on his foot.

She frowned, evidence of her shock lingering in her eyes only a moment before she straightened. "I'm afraid Professor Dumbledore's not here. He received an urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic and left immediately for London."

"H-He's gone?" I stammered, and Harry leaned against her desk, frantic.

"But this is important!" he shouted, and Hermione tried in vain to calm him. "This is about the Philosopher's Stone!"

This time there was no denying the shock that slid across her eyes and face, because it didn't go away. It stayed as she leaned closer, dropping her voice. "How did you know-?"

"Someone's going to try and steal it!"

She straightened again at Harry's words, her posture stiffening, her fingers curling around the brim of her hat. "I don't know how you four found out about the Stone, but I assure you it is perfectly well protected. Now would you all go back to your dormitories, _quietly_." Something bright shone in her eyes, and I had no doubt that if we didn't do as she said, she was going to get angry, _fast_.

As Hermione and I backed down the steps, Ron tugged on Harry's sleeve, urging him to follow. We were quiet until we hit the corridor outside the classroom, and the buzz of energy returned to us. "Well, that didn't _exactly_ go as planned, did it?" Hermione sighed.

"What do we do now? Dumbledore's gone, which means the Stone is fair game," I shuddered. "Maybe we should try Mum. I might be able to convince her that Snape is—"

"Coming this way!" hissed Hermione, and sure enough, a moment later a shadow fell over me, and I looked up to meet his beady black eyes.

"Pity. I had hoped that by now you would have found yourself in the company of your own house, Miss Sinistra, instead of three young Gryffindors."

"I was…I was just—"

"You ought to be careful. People will think you're…," he trailed off, eyes drifting from me, to Harry, where they narrowed, then stayed. He didn't budge under the glare, but I fidgeted just watching. "…up to something."

And with that, he slipped away, black robes billowing behind him as he disappeared down the corridor. I felt the tension in my whole body ease. That had been close. _Too_ close. I thanked Hermione for the warning that had probably saved us a lot of trouble. Because we _were_ up to something.

But then, so was _he_.

And with Dumbledore absent, we couldn't risk wasting the opportunity to stop him. Because if no one believed us, and no one would help, we were going to do it ourselves. _Tonight_.

* * *

"What the bloody hell do you mean, _'I can't come_'?" Tracey hissed from the couch by the fireplace, book in hand, squinting at me in the dim light of the abandoned Common Room. It was getting late, and everyone was either already tuckered out from a week of studying, or attending the small celebration in one of the Third-Year Boys Dormitories upstairs.

But not Tracey. She'd known I was up to something the moment I'd sat down at dinner. Apparently it had been written all over my face. Which was a lie, really. She'd just seen me take out the emerald turtle neck and black jeans I'd used the night of the fake duel, and the night I'd taken Norbert to Charlie at Mum's tower. Both of which I'd told her about, but hadn't invited her to. And so, she'd stuck around downstairs in the Common Room, waiting for me to come down.

I didn't need to see beneath the fluffy blanket she'd covered herself with to know she was dressed similarly.

"Tracey, you know what this is about."

"And you know I don't agree," she nodded, speaking of our belief that Snape was the one after the Stone. But despite her beliefs, she had listened to Hermione and I hash out our theories with her, and never said a word to anyone else about it. Had never tattled, or left us because of it.

"But that's not why you can't come." I stepped closer to her as she huffed, her arms crossing over her chest. "Look, this is dangerous, alright?" I raised my hand when she opened her mouth to protest. "And no, that doesn't mean I don't think you can handle it. It's just, well, it's been my choice to include you in everything we've discovered so far, my choice to tell you, because I knew I could trust you. Which means that if I dragged you along and something happened, I would blame myself—it would be my fault."

"A right hero, you are." She rolled her eyes, but the smile on her lips betrayed her. She wasn't mad, and as her arms began to drop, I knew she was resigning herself to her fate—the one that involved her staying right here on this couch to wait for me. Because if anything happened…if _I_ didn't make it back by midnight (the four of us had agreed two hours was enough to get past Fluffy and whatever else the teachers had sitting beneath him), she had to get help. I was relying on her for it. And I told her as much.

"And if I get in trouble? Because, you know, that's after curfew, missy," she sighed dramatically.

"Go directly to McGonagall. Tell her you know everything. Tell her what's happened. She'll help."

Her playfully attitude fell away, and she looked up at me, eyes suddenly showing her worry. "Are you sure about this, Elena? Are you sure you want to do this?"

I thought about all the signs we'd encountered, all the things we'd uncovered. It all pointed this way, everything we've discovered up to this point. And in my bones I knew it's the right thing to do, not because of the facts, but because of Harry. Because of the fear I'd seen in his eyes when he'd talked about seeing You-Know-You in the forest the night of our detention, the fear he'd relived when we were studying for finals. I knew that if we didn't do this, one of my best mates would be in trouble.

And that was all the reason in the world to do something this stupid.

"If we don't do it," I shrugged, trying not to relay my own fear to her through my words or actions, "no one else will. It's our only choice."

Just then, a small ball of red light shot into the Common Room, hovering before me. It told me the coast was clear, in Hermione's whisper, and then blinked out of existence.

Tracey told me to be safe. Wished me luck.

As I slipped past the statue, I hoped I wouldn't need it.

* * *

"To _Neville_, Hermione? Really?" I sighed, exasperated.

When I'd found them on the stairs of the Third Floor and slid under the Invisibility Cloak to join them, Ron had quickly and politely informed me Hermione was scary. Brilliant, but _scary_. Why? Well, because my best friend had placed their housemate—their _poor_, _hapless_, and _unsuspecting_ housemate Neville, remember, the one with the toad?—into a Full Body-Bind Curse, because he'd threatened to tell on them if they went out after curfew again. Which made sense, I supposed, given the last time they'd cost the house one-hundred-and-fifty points.

But really, did that earn him a Full Body-Bind Curse? I think not.

"If I'd placed him in a Leg-Locker Curse, he'd only have yelled for help and hopped his way to the nearest Prefect, don't you think?" she defended herself as we turned down the forbidden corridor.

"Right…," I grimaced, remembering the incident before the holidays.

We reached the door, then, because they came to a stop, and I along with them. It was ordinary, like any other door in this eerie corridor, but what waited behind wasn't the _least_ bit ordinary. "Got your flute?" I asked Hermione, who pulled it from beneath her sweater, beaming. "Good. Because I doubt my whistle-song will work. After all, it was designed for _dragons_."

Harry looked around us before pulling off the Invisibility Cloak. We'd agreed it would be much easier to maneuver inside without it, even if Ron felt it would be safer _with _it. Because we could totally slip past a giant three-headed dog that could still _hear_ and _smell_ us when invisible. _Right_.

Hermione pointed her wand at the lock, whispering _Alohomora_ and watching it click open. They held their breath waiting to see if it was going to be at the door where they'd left it, rabid and ready to tear into them, while I just wanted to _see _the bloody thing once and for all.

And I was _not_ disappointed.

I'll say that dragons are my favorite, again and again. They are. No doubt about it.

But I can certainly see the appeal to Fluffy. Three heads to love you, a ton of fur to cuddle with. If it weren't for all that slobbering and trying to eat you bit, he'd be rather cute. And that'd be, of course, because as the door swung open to reveal the great beast, we found him to be _sleeping_.

This was good – because we wouldn't need the music to sneak past him, nor would we run the risk of being eaten by three pairs of shiny sharp teeth.

But also _ver_y bad. Because it meant Snape had already been here. We were behind.

"Bugger," Harry swore, softly, stepping into the room, eyes scanning for the sound of the peaceful music that had drifted to us on Fluffy's hot breath as the door had opened. "There, in the corner. He's put a spell on it, or something."

The harp was off to the side, beautiful, tall and white—and indeed playing on its own.

As Hermione edged closer to examine it, I shuffled towards Fluffy, eyes darting between it and the trap door beneath one of its massive paws, folded beneath a sleeping head. Or two. It was my turn to swear. "We're going to have to move its paw."

"What?" Ron choked, coming over. One of the heads exhaled warmth at us again, and his nose wrinkled. "Ugh, it's got horrible breath."

"_He_," I corrected him, and he frowned skeptically at me.

"What, does your dragon fancy include large freakish dog-creatures now too?"

"No," I smiled. "I just find him cute, is all."

He scoffed. "Pfft, because you missed the part where he tried to eat us, right?"

I pointed at the sleeping beast, as if that was all the proof I needed.

In retaliation, he brought his hands before his mouth, hooking his fingers downwards to mimic a bunch of fangs, and he made snarling noises, coming closer. I laughed, trying to shove him off.

We were so distracted; we never noticed that Hermione and Harry had moved the paw from the trapdoor and opened it, and were now arguing about Harry wanting to go alone. More worrying, we never noticed that the harp had stopped playing, either, until suddenly, as were-Ron made a lunge for me, a large drop—and by drop, I mean something _half my bloody size_—hit him square in the shoulder, throwing him slightly off balance. I reached out to steady him, avoiding the rapidly growing…wet spot created…by…the…drool?

Oh, bugger.

My eyes trailed upwards against my will, and met three enormous pairs of brown ones, as well as three sets of very large, _very sharp_ teeth. Suddenly, I could see why Ron didn't carry the same warm and fuzzy feelings for the three-headed dog as I did.

Er, _Had_. Because now I certainly didn't.

Now, I screamed. And Hermione and Harry yelled. And Ron grabbed my hand and yanked me forward.

And we all fell into darkness.

* * *

**Your featured Monday update, dears. we're nearing the end now, only the last stretch to go, so I hope you guys are enjoying it. Thank you kindly for all the reviews, favorites and alerts so far. And stay tuned for CH23: The Philosopher's Trials. Huzzah.  
**


	23. The Philosopher's Trials

**Chapter Twenty-Three: The Philosopher's Trials**

* * *

There was something beneath me, and it wasn't hard ground. It was squishy, and more than just beneath me, it was all around me. At first I thought—hoped, really—that it was some form of sponge charm they'd set up. Because it seemed a bit sad to make it past Fluffy, and then die from a fall, didn't it? Might even be something like that large plastic castle thing Hermione had for one of her birthdays when we were younger that the adults put a lot of air into and we had to jump around in.

But then, of course, it started to _move_, and _Merlin's beard_ what was this thing? I could feel it touching my hands, my arms, my legs, my feet; my whole body. And it was most certainly _not_ welcome. I squinted in the darkness, trying to get a look at it.

"Lucky this plant thing was here," I heard Ron say, and looked over to see him, close to the light from the trapdoor, a goofy grin on his lips. But it faded fast when the _thing_—plant, was it?—started to coil around him, around Harry, Hermione, me. Panic rose in my chest, and my eyes found Hermione's, frantic. As a vine twined around my wrist and I pulled it, trying to break free, I saw the shake of her head, and frowned. I'm sorry, did she want me to play dead or something? The thing had a hold of my wrist—of most of me! I was most certainly _not_ going to—

"Stop. _Moving_," she hissed, sitting perfectly still. Although fear shone in her eyes, her posture betrayed none of it, and I realized, then, that she had a plan. "This is Devil's Snare," she elaborated. "You have to relax! If you don't, it'll only kill you faster."

"Kill us faster? Oh, _now _I can relax!" Ron snapped, his efforts to shake the plant's vines doubling. Mine, however, lessened. If there was one thing I knew, it's that Hermione knew her stuff. She'd been the first to walk out of the Herbology exam, head held high, and there was no doubt she'd be getting top grades.

And since I remembered there being _something_ in the ruddy final about _something_ called a Devil's Snare, I was willing to bet my whole non-existent ten galleons that listening to her would keep me safe. As my shoulders sagged and I let my wrists drop, I saw her slide downwards, heard a funny sucking noise, then a faint tap somewhere beneath me.

"Hermione!" the boys shouted, but I shook my head as lightly as possible.

"I think…I think it let her go," I said, their eyes turning to me. "I think she's right. We need only relax."

And as the words left my mouth, I felt the vines coiled around me loosen, and suddenly, I was dropping downwards. I was a little unprepared and only one foot hit solid ground, while my opposite knee connected with the stone floor, and I cursed. "Elena!" the boys shouted, and I looked upwards. I felt Hermione's hands on my arm as she pulled me up, smiling.

"I'm alright! We both are! Just do as Hermione says! Relax!"

A moment later Harry popped down a few feet away, landing on his feet. Lucky. Not so lucky as Ron, who was screaming somewhere above us, now desperate that his friends had all disappeared. As he began to cry for help, Hermione looked exasperated. "He's not relaxing, is he?"

"Doesn't sound like it."

"We've got to do something!"

"What?" Harry asked, looking back and forth between us.

"It was on the Herbology final, I remember the name," I began, eyes darting to Hermione, who nodded to confirm it. "That's how you remembered how to handle it, right?"

"I remember Sprout talking about it in our last class, saying it was important for the final. Oh, if only I had my notes!"

"Hermione!" I grabbed her by the shoulders, eye-to-eye. "Since when do you need notes? Everything you need is up here." I tapped her on the head, grinning. "Now come on, what else did Sprout say about Devil's Snare?"

"Um," she bit her lip, closing her eyes to think. "Um, Devil's Snare…"

"Devil's Snare," I nodded.

"It's deadly, um…"

I snapped my fingers, stepping back, the rhyme playing in my head. "Fun! It's deadly fun! What else? What came after that, Hermione?"

"But will sulk in the sun! That's it, Devil's Snare hates sunlight!" Her eyes shot open, and her hand grabbed at the wand in her jeans, pointing upwards. "_Lumos Solem_!"

A brilliant yellow light blasted out from her wand, bathing the small room we were in with sunlight. Above us, the creature let loose an ghastly wail, and a few leaves fell around us, shriveling as they hit the stone floor. It writhed under the sunlight, unwinding itself and recoiling from Hermione's wand. And suddenly, a few feet away, it dropped a certain redhead rather unceremoniously onto the ground.

As Hermione finished her spell, Harry and I ran over, helping Ron up. "Ron, are you okay?" He patted the dust from his pants, then looked up to grin widely at Harry and I, chuckling slightly.

"Yeah," he nodded. "Lucky we didn't panic!" I socked him in the arm, hard. I couldn't help myself. "Ow! Elena! What was that for?"

"Lucky _Hermione_ pays attention in Herbology," I huffed. He rewarded me with an even goofier smile. Twit.

Assured that everyone was okay, the four of us made for the doorway at the back of the room next. Anxiousness crackled in my fingers. A three-headed dog, a giant man-eating plant. I didn't want to think about what lay behind the next door, but if we were going to make it through this, we were going to have to face everything the teachers could throw at us. It didn't help, of course, that we had no idea _which_ teachers were assisting in this obstacle course from hell.

But when we opened the next door to reveal a towering room, with high open ceilings, winding wooden beams, and a cluster of _flying keys_, I couldn't help but chuckle. _Flitwick_. Those keys were charmed, no doubt about it. Colorful, winged and fluttering about. It was easy to pick out the delight shinning in Hermione's eyes. Charms _loon_, remember?

In the middle of the room, a ratty old broom hovered, all alone.

"Okay. Flying keys, broom to fly on. What's the point?" As Ron tried unsuccessfully to open the next door, a large, ancient-looking thing, I got my answer. It was evident we were going to have to _catch_ the key. The only question was, which one?

"There must be a thousand up there! How are we to know which is right?"

"We're looking for a big, old fashioned one. Probably rusty, like this handle," Ron stated, wiping his hand on his pants after trying to door one last time. "Well, which one of us is catching it, then?"

I snickered. "You're kidding, right?" When he frowned, I laughed. "Hermione and I are rubbish on a broom, you know that. I only just passed my exam this morning on luck, I'd bet. And you, well…"

"What about it?" he huffed, eyes narrowing at me.

"Well, you're not the Gryffindor team _Seeker_, are you?" I couldn't help but chuckle when his face reddened. "Harry's used to flying after tiny little flighty objects like a key, or a snitch."

"Point made," he sighed, before looking to Harry. "Do you know which one it is, mate?"

"That one, there. With the broken wing," he pointed, and we all looked upwards to see the one he was pointing at. It was larger than the rest, but also much slower; its flight hindered by the effectively broken wing Harry spoke of. Strange, compared to the dog and the plant that tried to eat us, this was unreasonably…

"Simple," Harry whispered, glancing from the key to the broom beside him. "This is too simple."

"You'll be fine, Harry," Hermione smiled, stepping closer to him. "If Snape can catch it on that old thing, you certainly can. You're an amazing Seeker, Harry. The youngest in a century. I'm sure a key won't be too much trouble."

"Hopefully that's not jinxing me," he sighed, swinging his leg over the broom. "Alright. Here goes nothing."

The moment he kicked off, all hell broke loose.

The broken key was swallowed whole by the cluster of smaller keys quickly banding together, zooming off and away from Harry. Stragglers from the group plucked and dove at Harry from all directions, and he tried to fend them off, cursing as they cut into his skin.

"You jinxed him!" Ron accused, pointing at Hermione.

She scoffed, crossing her arms. "I most certainly did _not_!"

As they argued, my eyes followed Harry, who twisted around the wooden beams lining the towering room, racing after the old key. He wound his way upwards, before swiftly coming back down, gaining speed as he spiralled, eyes set on the prize. As they dropped down our way, I cupped my hands together, glancing towards the door, where Ron and Hermione stood, arguing. "Look out!"

They ducked at the last second, narrowly avoiding the mass of charmed keys and determined Seeker. I, however, wasn't so lucky. A stray key that had been diving for Harry missed, catching my right cheek and digging in. I hissed, swatting it away with my arm. "Going to having a word with Flitwick about this one…"

"You think that's who's responsible for this room?" Hermione asked, and I looked up to see she and Ron had wandered over to make sure I was alright.

"Must be. Although the broom stuff is probably Hooch." I wiped at the bit of blood on my cheek with my sleeve, making a mental note to wash this immediately after—if we made it out of here, of course—so Mum didn't see it. She'd have a fit if I ruined my nice sweater. "Hagrid we knew about, and the last one was obviously Sprout. Who else do you think has pitched in on this?"

"Your mum, maybe?"

"What's she gonna do, have stars shine us blind or something?" I saw Ron chuckle, edging close to the door as Harry edged closer to the key. "No, can't be her. What else should we expect to—"

"Catch the key!" Harry yelled, and Hermione and I looked up in time to see him fly by, flinging the key into Ron's hands. He quickly made for the door, jamming it into the lock and trying to pry it open. We ran over just as the lock clicked and the door swung open. As we hustled inside, Harry came speeding towards us, and Hermione and I slammed the door shut just in time to listen to the sound of keys upon keys smashing into the other side. "I'm teaching all three of you how to be Seeker next year, just in case we ever do something this ruddy stupid again."

We patted him on the back as he tossed the broom to the ground, and joined us in making our way down the corridor and into the next room.

A large room filled with rubble and strange statues, and a giant checkered floor that… "Oh, _no_."

"Oh, _yes_," Ron breathed, being the first to step up and onto the giant…giant…_Merlin_ I didn't even want to acknowledge what it was. "It's a giant _chessboard_." Oh, look, he can finish people's thoughts now, can he? Huzzah.

"There's the door," Harry pointed at an archway all the way across the room. Which was also across the board. Which happened to have a nearly full set of pieces on both sides, and I _didn't_ like the feeling they were giving me.

"Harry, I don't think…," I started, but the warning fell on deaf ears as he eased his way onto the chessboard, making for the door. He was a foot away from the white side when the pawns drew their swords, crossing them together in his path. At least my warning had been more pleasant than theirs.

And far less dangerous, too. Because if they wouldn't let us cross, that meant…

Ron grinned, stepping up onto the board and looking at the black pieces on our side. "We've got to play our way across the room."

Thank you, Ronald. Now I can die happy.

"Right, now I'm not saying this to offend you lot, but, see, since none of you are particularly good at chess—"

"Just tell us what to do," Harry laughed, and he lit up like a ruddy Christmas tree.

"Harry, take the empty bishop's square, you favor them when we play. Hermione, next to him, over there, the Queen-side castle. Elena, if you'd ever so kindly join me, I'm in need of a bishop over here."

As they took their places and I followed him to the left side of the board, I couldn't help but laugh—he was headed for the knight-less horse. "Thinking of joining the round table, are you, Ron?"

"Don't joke, Arthur was a brilliant man, he was. Could've been a Gryffindor, too, if he'd been a wizard, the way I hear it."

I smiled, standing in the middle of my empty square, tapping my fingers against my thigh to calm my nerves. "And Merlin was the brightest wizard my house was ever proud to lay claim to."

"Quite fitting then, the pieces I chose for us." Across from us, a white pawn slid forward, the statue never coming alive, never betraying the presence of life we'd seen earlier when they'd blocked Harry's path. Ron looked down at me. "You ready?"

"Not really. You figure it'll be just like real wizard's chess?" I motioned to the rubble on the outskirts of the chessboard, grimacing. "I mean…"

He cleared his throat, pointing at the pawn in front of him. "You there. D-5."

Obediently, it slid forth, coming to a stop diagonally from the white one that had moved first. It took only a moment for it to come to life, unsheathe its sword and slice the pawn clean through. From far to our right, I heard Hermione yelp. I swallowed, hard. Ron looked down at me again, his eyes suddenly brimming with fear. "Yes, Elena, I think this is going to be _exactly_ like wizard's chess."

If we made it out of here alive, I was going to _kill_ McGonagall.

* * *

It played out exactly like real wizard's chess. Ron directed the black pieces, and they moved silently wherever he sent them, regardless of their fate. Every time a white piece took one of our black ones, they showed no mercy. They cut clean through them, exploded them into rubble, and dragged them off the board into the heaps of rubble at the sides. It made my knees week, made my palms clammy. Because _Merlin_ only knew what would happen if one of _us_ fell into a nasty spot like that.

At least with Fluffy and the Devil's Snare, things had been quick. They could've ended quickly, too, and I was starting to see I would've been grateful for it, had I known what lay ahead. Even the keys were better than this. Better than standing here, waiting it out, wondering which piece would fall next, dreading what would happen if we lost.

My knees were starting to tremble when Ron broke me from my thoughts. "Elena?"

"Hmm?"

"I need you to move diagonally four squares to the left."

And so I did. It brought me in range of one of the last remaining white pawns, and I couldn't help but wonder—if the pieces could off each other so easily, did that mean we could, too? If he ordered me to attack it, next, could I take it out? Would it explode? Vanish? Spontaneously combust?

It was right about when he'd ordered himself forward, without touching any other pieces, eyes scanning the field for his next move, remaining silent, that Harry noticed something was off. Far to my right, he was frowning, looking at Ron's design. "Hang on a minute…"

"You understand, right, Harry?" he said from atop his stone horse, sounding grim. "Once I make my move…the Queen will take me. Then you're free to check the King."

_The Queen will take me._

His words spun inside my head as I examined the field before us, everything fitting together in my mind. I froze, my blood running cold. Harry started shouting at him. He, too, had realized the severity of the situation. _The Queen will take me._

"Ron, no!" Harry called, but the other boy pretended not to hear him, looking my way.

"You understand, don't you? It's the only way."

"_NO!" _I yelled crossly, hands balling into fists. "Don't you dare even try it, Ron!"

"What?" Hermione piped up, leaning forward in her square, frowning at us all. "What's going on?"

"Ron's planning on sacrificing himself, that's what!" I spat, and her eyes widened.

"No, you can't! There must be another way!"

"Do you wanna stop Snape from getting that Stone or not?" he cried, looking from Hermione to me and back. "Look, Harry's the one that's got to go on, alright? I'm sure you've both realized this. Not me, not you, _Harry_. And we need to help him do it, got that?"

I bit my lip, glancing at Hermione. She shook her head frantically. But with or without our consent, Ron was moving forward with his plan. And though I didn't have the heart to say it, I knew he was right. Whatever happened tonight, Harry needed to be the one to make it to the end, not the rest of us. And so Ron's horse slid into the Queen's sights, and a moment later, she'd drawn her sword and lashed out, smashing the horse in half. He yelled, crumpling to the ground, and I shut my eyes, cringing.

_Please be okay, Ron. Please._

"Hermione, no!" I heard Harry yell, and opened my eyes to see her trying to move from her square towards the fallen redhead. "The game isn't over, remember that." He took a deep breath as she settled, and he stepped forward into the square diagonally from him. He kept going until he was in sight of the King, then squared his shoulders, and yelled, as loudly as he could; "CHECKMATE!"

The sword fell from the White King's grasp, clattering loudly against the chessboard.

* * *

**Bugger. This was supposed to be done far earlier. It was (as it is now 1:00 AM and into Saturday already) the featured Friday update. The roommates kidnapped me, so my apologies, here it is now. Featuring the first four trials to the Stone, and a cliffhanger ending... which I s'pose it isn't, really, since you know what's going to happen. Psh. Details. **

**Moving right along, I wanted the curious few to know I am, indeed, planning to continue this series past First Year. I'm hopefully, if all goes well and you lot don't get too sick of me, plan to try penning out the whole Seven, because the older Elena gets, the more original her story becomes. So if the interest is there, let it be known I'll continue her story.**

**Anywho, stay tuned for Monday's feature update (I feel I can comfortably work with that. Monday and Friday update schedule. Does that sound silly? Psh.). Next up is CH24: The Potions Riddle. As always, let me know what you thought. My biggest thanks to everyone reading and enjoying this thus far, you're all amazing.**


	24. The Potions Riddle

**Chapter Twenty-Four: The Potions Riddle**

* * *

"He'll need to be taken to Pomfrey," Hermione said, on her knees beside Ron, who was completely out. His breathing was labored, and there was a bit of blood trickling down the side of his head. I exchanged worried looks with Harry, who nodded.

"Hermione, take him." She looked up at me, eyes wide. "Ron's right, Harry's got to go on, and we've got to make sure he does. But we can't just leave him here, so you've got to take him."

"Why have I got to?" she asked, nose crinkling.

Yes, because I know just the thing to help me move a boy twice my size past all those bloody obstacles and up to the Fourth Floor. _Really_, Hermione. _Really_. This fact seemed to dawn on her as she stayed there, eyes wide, looking up at me. She pressed a finger to her lips, whispering; "Oh. I suppose you're right, then." She stood, wiping the dust and rubble from her pants, holding her wand firmly in her grip, looking between Harry and I. "You'll be all right?"

We exchanged looks again, and a smile broke out on my lips. "We'll do our best."

"I'll take him to the Hospital Wing quickly, then. And, well, I could always come back. Make sure you're safe. Make sure nothing—"

Harry started shaking his head. "Go to the Owlery. Send a message to Dumbledore; he needs to know about this. He needs to be warned, just in case we can't stop—"

My hand reached over, grasping his. "Don't say it, hmm? There's strength in believing we can."

"You'll be okay, Harry," Hermione smiled. "You both will. You're great, wonderful wizards. You'll be fine."

No sooner had the words left her mouth, did she launch herself at us both, squeezing us together in a hug. I heard her efforts to keep a sob at bay, and when she pulled back, there was no mistaking the glistening in her eyes. She found mine to be the same. "Be safe, please. Both of you. _Be careful_."

"We'll see you soon," I nodded, stepping back with Harry as she made her way back to Ron. "And Hermione?" She turned, brown eyes a tad unfocused now. "Tell Tracey."

"I will," she nodded.

I looked to Harry, and bobbed my head only once before we took off, together, racing across the chessboard. Unhindered by the opposing pawns this time, we skidded into White Piece territory and off the board, headed for the archway.

Hagrid, Sprout, Flitwick, McGonagall. Dog, plant, keys, chessmen. What was next? What lay behind the next great door? We stopped before it, and I ignored how the tips of my fingers shook. I didn't know whether it was fear, or anticipation.

"All right?" Harry whispered, looking over at me.

"Go on."

Cautiously, he pushed open door number five.

There was nothing in the world that could've prepared me for the stench it unleashed upon our nostrils. _Nothing_. It was horrid. Absolutely awful. And yet, something stirred in the back of my mind. A memory of four kids, banding together and becoming best mates, drawn together by one large, towering, _foul-smelling_ beast.

Oh, _Merlin_.

"No _way_," I whispered, leaning over Harry's shoulder to peer inside, trying my best to cover my nose with my sleeve. If my eyes hadn't been watering before, with Hermione, they certainly were now. Hell, they _stung_ it was so foul in here. It hadn't been this bloody bad last time, had it?

No, it hadn't. Because the Troll we'd bested in the Girl's Lavatory, well…it hadn't been this _big_. And apparently smell accompanied size, because this one, lying flat on the middle of the floor in front of us, was _much_ large, and _much_ smellier.

"Blimey," Harry coughed into his sleeve, cautiously starting to step around it, keeping me behind him, his wand drawn. "It's disgusting. I can hardly breathe."

"Let's get past it and out of here," I hissed, nudging him towards the door at the back of the room. We crept around the monster, never letting it leave our sight, _just in case_. Merlin, the first bugger had been difficult enough, and that was with _four_ of us. I couldn't imagine Harry and I taking on _this_ one just the two of us, even if we had a whole year of Defense Against The Dark Arts behind us. "You reckon this is Quirrell's contribution?"

"After the first one, at Halloween?" he chuckled, before remembering that required more foul air that _tasted_ bad, and thought better of laughing. "I reckon he'd be against it, really."

"I'm just glad we didn't have to fight this one," I told him as we slipped through the next door, closing it behind us and letting loose the breath we'd been holding, enjoying air that smelled and tasted so much better. Only…

I turned, taking in the room, and swore, softly. It was nothing too elaborate; a long table in the center of the room with seven differently shaped bottles standing on it in a line. A roll of parchment lay before them. I knew whose work this was, without having to examine it closely.

_Codswallop! Snape's one of the professors guarding the Stone!_

I'd been dreading this room since we'd begun.

As I stepped forward, my eyes locked on the roll of parchment, Harry followed, and a loud hissing erupted behind us. I spun, quickly, and watched as fire sprang to life, covering the whole doorway, effectively blocking the way we'd come. "Oh, no." As more hissing sounded, further away, I glanced towards the exit onwards, and saw flames there, too.

But they weren't ordinary flames. Not at all. The ones covering the doorway we'd come from were purple, while the ones ahead of us were black. But it didn't matter to me what they were. It mattered what they'd done—they trapped us.

And that fact set my teeth on edge.

"Elena, you all right?"

"Not really," I said shakily. "I was hoping to avoid Snape's room entirely, if possible."

"It's alright," he said, stepping up to the table. "We've made it this far, haven't we? Come on; let's see what he's got planned for us."

I think I'd rather chew my own arm off, thanks. Even if those black flames did look rather enticing.

Reluctantly, I stepped up to the table, peering over his shoulder to read.

_**Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,  
Two of us will help you, whichever you would find,  
One among us seven will let you move ahead,  
Another will transport the drinker back instead,**_

_**Two among our number hold only nettle wine,  
Three of us are killers, waiting bidden in line.  
Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore,  
To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:  
First, however slyly the poison tries to hide,  
You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;  
Second, different are those who stand at either end,  
But if you would move onward, neither is your friend;  
Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,  
Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;  
Fourth, the second left and the second on the right,  
Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight.**_

Bugger.

Bloody buggering _hell_.

A _riddle_? Snape had chosen a _riddle_ for his challenge?

Merlin's pearly toes; I was going to throttle him if we made it out of here!

The dog had tried to kill us with teeth; the plant, with constriction. The keys had tried to cut us down; the chessmen had merely tried to cut us, period. And the Troll, had he been awake, would've likely tried to _bash_ us.

And Snape had chosen a bunch of bloody bottles with poison and wine and _rhymes_?

"It's bloody brilliant!" I choked out, finally able to form words again as Harry stared at me, brows creased into a frown.

"I'm sorry?"

"This isn't magic—it's logic—a puzzle. In fact, it's a _potions_ puzzle."

"That's great, Elena. But that whole riddle means rubbish to me, and I didn't pass the final on Monday with my eyes closed the way Hermione and—_you_! I have _you_ with me!" He began to grin, as if he'd only just figured out our luck. Which I think he had. "You've had this class down since first week!"

"I haven't a clue how, but if it has anything to do with my house, I am henceforth never complaining about it again." I clapped my hands together, splaying them out at the edges of the parchment, scanning over the words again. "Everything we need is here, on this page. He's told us—"

"You," he interjected, and I waved him off.

"He's told us exactly what to do. Seven bottles: three are poison; two are wine; one will get us safely through the black fire, and one will get us back through the purple."

"How do we know which is which?"

"Hang on; I'll have it in a minute." I took the parchment in hand, and made my way before the line of bottles, biting my lip. My eyes scanned up and down the line, re-reading and repeating the lines over and over in my mind. "So the left ones…and then, neither of those will move us on, but _back_ maybe… and the small one… safe at least… the big one, too… and if that one's wine, then that means…"

"Uh, Elena…"

"Just a moment, Harry," I told him, parchment fluttering after me as I walked up and down the line once last time, peering at the bottles. "And if that's poison, and that's wine, then _this_ one…," I picked up the smallest bottle, a little skinny thing with barely enough in it to douse a candle fire. "This one will go through the black fire—towards the Stone."

From somewhere on my left, Harry's voice sounded anxious. "But, that's only enough for one of us! Hardly enough to swallow, how are we to—"

"The round one at the end, there, will take me back through the purple flames," I said, pointing. He came closer, eyes large and worried. "Don't give me that look; you know this is how it has to be, Harry. I've added it up. I can't think of any other teachers who'd have something to put in your way. This is the last room, it _has_ to be. Which means Snape is through there," I pointed towards the black flames, not daring to look their way for fear they'd draw my attention again, "and so is the Stone, and that's where you need to go. You can stop him."

"No, I can't," he shook his head. I opened my mouth to protest, but he held up a hand to stop me. "You know I can't. But I can hold him off. At least long enough for you to make sure Hermione sent that message for Dumbledore. Enough to make sure he gets here to stop Snape."

"But Harry, what if…what if _You-Know-Who_'s with him?" I asked, trembling all of a sudden. I knew there wasn't enough in that vial to get us both through the black fire, but suddenly, I wished there was. I couldn't just let Harry walk in there alone and face him again, not after last time, in the forest, not after I _promised_.

"I was lucky once, wasn't I?" he grinned toothily, pointing to his scar. "I can be again."

My throat felt thick, my eyes stung, and before I knew what I was doing, I'd launched myself at Harry in a very Hermione-like manner. "Please be safe, Harry. Don't you dare let anything bad happen to yourself."

"That's a little out of my hands, don't you think, Elena?"

"Nonsense!" I sniffled, stepping back. "You decide your own fate, Harry. Every choice you make, every step you take. You be careful in there, and you'll come out just fine. I know you will. You're a brilliant wizard, like Hermione said."

"I'm not as good as her, or you. If you hadn't been here, for this riddle…"

"There are certain things one can inherit, Harry, and others you can learn. Hermione's clever, really brilliant, and she learned all she knows from books. Me? I just happened to inherit some of this rubbish from Mum, and maybe my dad, but I can't tell on that one." I stepped forward, squeezing his arm, the corners of my mouth turning up wistfully. "But you, Harry? You inherited something amazing from your parents. Bravery. Talent. And a will to survive. You'll be just fine in there. I know it."

As I placed the small vial in his hands and backed away to grab the round one for me, I winked at him. "I'll bet that by the time I get Dumbledore down here, you'll already have Snape knocked out next to the nasty old Troll, and a fancy Stone in your hands to show for it."

Slowly, hesitantly, the corners of his lips curved into a smile as well. "Thank you, Elena."

"Good luck, Harry," I said.

And watched as he downed the contents of the small bottle. He grimaced, very quickly, before shaking it off, coughing, and tossing the vial onto the table, where it clattered, but didn't break. "Here goes nothing," he said, before turning on his heel and disappearing through the black flames.

As soon as he was out of sight, my senses returned to me. My heart was thumping in my chest, its beat pounding in my ears. My fingers were trembling, and I was amazed I hadn't dropped the bottle yet. Or that my knees hadn't given out. I needed to get out of here and get help, fast. It didn't matter that I knew he'd be fine, that I knew he'd make it out all right—I was still worried, still scared. Because no matter how sure you are of something, there's a chance that it won't play out, that something will change. And that's what I was afraid of.

Because what if You-Know-Who really _was_ in there with Snape?

My hands were trembling again, threatening to drop the bottle.

I un-stoppered it, staring at the contents within. Took a whiff, wrinkled my nose, and counted to three. Lifted it to my lips. Then paused.

Bugger.

If—when, Elena, _when_—he made it out with the Stone and had to come back this way, he'd need the rest of this, wouldn't he? He'd need to get back through the purple flames that I had a feeling wouldn't be vanishing any time soon.

_Bloody buggering hell_.

Half would have to do, I supposed.

"Here goes nothing, then," I said, lifting the bottle upwards. As soon as the contents touched my lips, I felt frozen in place. It was ice cold, colder than snow on a winter's day. Colder than ice-water as it wound its way down my throat, sending an unwelcome shiver down my spine along with it.

But it did nothing to quell my nerves.

I reached out towards the purple flames hesitantly, brushing only my fingertips through it at first, just to make sure. They felt weird, and warm, but not burnt or burning, and so I pronounced myself safe, and walked the rest of the way through, pushing the door open and bracing myself against the smell.

I wobbled slightly as I reach the other side, warmth filling up every space the cold had seeped into. A wave of nausea hit, and I nearly buckled at the knees, but thankfully, I'd been leaning on the door, and did not falter. My head felt light, and a pounding had begun in my ears. It all passed quickly, and once it was gone, I took off; going as fast as I feet would carry me.

Past the drooling Troll, face-down in its own terrible smell. _I hope none of it stuck to my clothing_.

Past the barren wasteland of a chessboard. _I ignore the bit of crimson I spotted by the fallen black horse._

Past the thousands of keys, still stuck in the door and buzzing angrily. _I pray my cheek cut isn't bad._

Past the Devil's Snare, up the stairs to the right we hadn't noticed. _I detour it entirely, ruddy plant._

And finally, past Fluffy, across the stone floor, not noticing that _he was asleep_ and _there was no music_. My brain, unable to process these things, was now sluggish, and things had begun to blur by the time I'd made it to Sprout's challenge. I didn't stop to think why. I made for the door, which I didn't think we'd left open behind us—

-and ran face-first into another person.

"Miss Sinistra, will you _watch_ where you're going? Confounded child…"

A person who sounded remarkably like Snape.

Wait, what? I stared upwards, and my heart stopped as I found a familiar pair of black eyes and a crooked nose looking back. How could…How did that make any sense? How could he be here, when he was downstairs, after the Stone…?

"Children are awful at mysteries. Absolutely horrible."

Thank you, Professor. You're a ton of help, you are.

Why was my head pounding? Why were the walls spinning?

"What's going on?" I heard myself say, but I sounded so very _very_ far away. And stupid. I sounded like a right idiot. And Snape must've known this, because his nose seemed to wrinkle. He leaned closer, narrowing his eyes at me.

I still didn't understand a thing. And now he seemed a little blurry, too.

"Professor Snape, I believe you should take Miss Sinistra there to the Hospital Wing to join Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger and Miss Davis. It seems she hasn't taken the whole bottle."

Bottle? What the ruddy hell was…hang on, _Dumbledore_? Was that Dumbledore headed towards us from down the corridor with Filch? "Wot's goin' on?" I repeated, and this time managed to sound even worse. I was also quite sure they all had funny little cats sitting on their heads. Or hats. I couldn't be quite sure.

Snape grabbed my arm, tugged me closer to squint at me, and barked, quite loudly; "Did you drink the whole thing, Miss Sinistra? To get back through the purple flames? Did you drink it all, or just half? Elena, it's extremely important that you—"

I never quite caught what he thought was so important.

Because the world collapsed in on itself, and then I fainted.

* * *

**lalalalalala.** **so, because I'm not totally barking, Elena didn't wind up going with Harry to face Voldy. It's something that should be done alone, no matter the story.** **I chose to include the potions riddle, because I thought it fitting the Slytherin kid would get'er done. And I know it was Hermione in the books who solved it, but because I'm following the movies, for the most part, and Hermione takes Ron to the HW (Hospital Wing happens to spell Hermione Weasley, how funny is that...)****, there you go. Oh, and I figured it was fair, because, y'know, Hermione gets the devil plant, Harry gets the keys and Ron gets chess. She had to have a hero moment before totally passing the hell out. Huzzah. Monday update, out. Review, lovelies, and Friday will come CH25: Keep Dreaming.**


	25. Keep Dreaming

**Chapter Twenty-Five: Keep Dreaming**

* * *

We'd been wrong.

_Merlin_, we'd been _so_ wrong.

Everything we'd found, all the things we'd uncovered, it had pointed to Snape being the one after the Stone, after Harry. Only, he hadn't wanted to Stone for himself or You-Know-You, or to kill Harry. Quite the opposite. He'd tried to _save_ Harry, and stop _Quirrell_ from getting the Stone.

My brain hurt just thinking about it.

Or maybe that was just leftover from the incident with the purple flames. A right genius, I was, drinking only half the bottle. Snape said he was surprised I hadn't done more than give myself a nasty fever and knock myself out. There was a whole number of ways it could've gone wrong.

But then, I guess I'd used up my mistakes thus far, hadn't I? I'd woken up in a Hospital Wing bed, across from a recovering Ron, to see Hermione and Tracey and _Mum_ fussing over me. As my daze began to clear, they'd explained everything to me. How Quirrell had let the Troll loose, how he'd tried to sneak pass the dog but Snape had headed him off, getting bitten in the process. How he'd tried to jinx Harry's broom, and Snape had been trying to counter-curse it. How it had been him, that night in the forest, feeding off the unicorn because he was sharing a body with bloody You-Know-Who, and Snape had been threatening him, trying to sway his loyalties back to Dumbledore the nights Harry and I had happened across the arguing pair, separately.

_Merlin's beard_. Had I mentioned we'd been _wrong_?

Snape had been there when I'd awoken, too, making sure there were no lasting effects from the potion. I'd attempted to apologize. We all had. And whether it was because Mum was sitting there, smiling at him, or not, he actually listened. Then curtly told us to forget about it and left. Psh. Rude. Well, I supposed it was better than nothing.

It wasn't long before Pomfrey deemed both Ron and I fine to leave, and we did, but not before convincing Mum to get over the Hogsmeade and get us sweets to form a basket for Harry, once he woke. We weren't sure what had happened, because Dumbledore told us that Harry would, when he was ready. We knew only that Quirrell was gone, the Stone was safe, and the rather hectic end to our First Year was over.

As I sat across the table from Hermione in the Great Hall, waiting for the End-of-Term Feast to start, I wondered if the forthcoming years would be anywhere near as exciting. Er, as _hectic_, sorry. If Hermione found out how much fun Ron and I had thought it was, she might off us.

"Was it Chocolate Frogs or Pumpkin Pasties I put in the gift basket for Harry? I can't remember," I fussed, glancing at her over the top of the Daily Prophet she was reading. I watched as she rolled her eyes.

"You know, this riddle thing of Snape's has got you obsessing over detail now. Ever since you woke up yesterday. Paranoid, you are."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not!"

"Are—" but something had caught her eye. Something with bright red hair and a flushed face, running towards us. He had a bit of a black eye and a bruise forming on the right side of his head from the chess game, and looked a bit out of breath. "Ron! What is it?"

"Pomfrey cleared him. Just a few minutes ago."

"Is he coming down?"

"I expect he'll be headed to the Dormitories first to change from those awful robes she makes us wear, don't you?"

"Come on," I grinned, grabbing their hands. "We'll meet him halfway."

* * *

Halfway turns out to be two floors up, because he'd already made it to Gryffindor Tower and back.

His hair was a mess (when wasn't it?). His glasses were cracked (as usual). He had bandages on both his hands, and I thought I could spot a nasty cut healing on his cheek (which I was familiar with myself, having one from those blasted keys). But none of that mattered when he looked our way. It all seemed to fade away I the face of the ear-to-ear grin he bore, his eyes lighting up beneath said cracked glasses.

In seconds the four of us came together, meeting in the middle in a jumble of limbs and hugs and relief. Oh, and questions. Nearly forgotten about those pesky little things. _What happened? You all right? Are you? Were you scared? Anyone in trouble? _

Thankfully, and rather surprisingly, despite all the rules we'd broken getting here; Dumbledore hadn't assigned any of us detention. Perhaps it was the nearness to the end of the year—and by nearness, I mean today was the Closing Feast. Downstairs. Rather soon.

As if it could read my thoughts, Ron's stomach let loose a fearsome growl, rivalling that of Fluffy. A blush crept across his lines of freckles, and a sheepish grin wound its way onto his lips as he looked at us. "So, I don't suppose you'd like to take this reunion down to the Great Hall, would you?"

"Hungry? _Again_?" Hermione said, her brows raised high, mocking.

"I was going to say famished, actually. Starving. Withering by the second. Deprived of nourishment. Nearly dying of—"

"Yes, yes, we get it. C'mon, Ron," Harry chuckled, pushing him forward. Hermione grabbed my hand, dragging me after them.

"You know what happens during the Closing Feast, don't you?" Ron grinned back at us smugly. "The _House Cup_ is awarded."

A grin broke out on my lips, and he realized his mistake all too soon. "I'm excited," I admitted. "Last I checked, _I_ was in first place. And you lot were in last." I tapped my chin thoughtfully as Hermione pulled me along. "Oh, wait, that might've been the Falcons and the Cannons."

"Shut it," he groaned.

Only I didn't. Because he'd reminded me all season that Gryffindor was on top in the Quidditch standings (well, until they'd eaten it against Ravenclaw), and I intended to repay the favor with every inch of snark I possessed in my body.

As we came closer to the main floor, music flooded up to meet us. It was starting. I was so excited.

Not because my First Year at Hogwarts was ending, no. But because I'd heard a great many things about the celebrations for House Cup winners, and given we were in the lead, it left me a little more than thrilled. And breathless, because when we stepped through those doors, I noticed Dumbledore, or McGonagall, or Snape—_someone_—had outfitted the banners all along the hall. Green and silver and _so very much mine_. It was very different from how I'd felt looking at the colors at the start of the year, but I'd grown fond of my house—and even the people in it—over the year, and decided Snape had indeed been right. This house was where I was meant to be. Without it, it was safe to say things would perhaps not have worked out the way they did for us.

Pride welled in my throat, and a grin must've broken out on my lips, because Ron elbowed me in the side, chuckling. "Yeah, alright, you win. Come off it, Elena." I snapped back to reality, turning to them.

This was it. This was the last moment we'd spend in this grand room as First Years. Likely the last moment we'd be together until next year (except for Hermione and I, mind you. And if you weren't counting the train.) And that, of course, was if we didn't have another repeat of the Wingardium Leviosa incident before then to split us apart.

But somehow, now, looking at my three closest friends—_Gryffindors that they were_—bidding me goodbye and heading for their table as I made for mine, I couldn't imagine this ending any time soon. Sure, You-Know-You had escaped from Quirrell's body and could be out there somewhere, plotting to come back after Harry again. And sure, this was only the beginning, but what we'd been through this year had bound us together, the four of us, for many future years to come. Of that, I simply had no doubt. Besides, I'd made that promise to Harry that I was never going to abandon him again, that night in the forest, and I intended to keep it.

It made me smile as I sat down at the Slytherin table, and was faced with someone else I couldn't have made it through this year without—Tracey. We'd told her everything in the Hospital Wing, absolutely everything I hadn't before. Or, well, _Hermione and Ron_ had told her, while I was unconscious, rolling around in my sheets with a bleeding fever, the repercussions of being a total prat. Huzzah.

She was fine that we hadn't involved her at first, with the whole Snape thing. She was happy, in fact, to have been on the outside, because if it weren't for her, Hermione may not have made it up to the Hospital Wing with Ron in good time. And Mum may not have gotten the chance to fuss over me, either. I glanced her way as voices quieted all across the Great Hall and the music dimmed. She was seated in her usual spot, next to Snape, and it was strange little reminder, seeing the seat on his other side empty. _Quirrell's seat_. But then my eyes snapped over to Dumbledore, who'd stepped forward to address us, and that buzzing excitement was back, everything else unimportant forgotten.

"Welcome, everyone, to the End-of-Term Feast. Firstly, I'd like to congratulate you on your hard work this year. My pride is never-ending as Hogwarts students strive to be their best. Now, as I understand it, the House Cup needs awarding. As the Houses currently stand," he motioned behind him to the four hourglasses of House colors, "in fourth place, Gryffindor, with 312 points." I heard the other Slytherin kids around me snicker, and it took everything I had not to sock Draco, who was sitting just a seat down from me and doing the most mocking. "Third place, Hufflepuff, with 352 points. Second place, Ravenclaw, with 415 points. And in first place, with 422 points, Slytherin."

Our table erupted into loud and raucous cheers, clapping and whistling. Even Tracey and I joined in. But Dumbledore didn't look _quite_ finished, and sure enough, a moment later, he raised his hands, sending us into silence. "Yes, yes, well-done, Slytherin. Well-done, indeed." His eyes raked the room them, settling particularly on the Gryffindor table, and a wistful grin spread onto his lips. "I do have, however, a few recent events to take into account. Accompanied by a few last minute points."

Wait—_what_?

What was he talking about? Why was he looking at Ron and Hermione and Harry? (Because I knew that's where those half-moon glasses of his were gazing.)

"First, for the cool use of intellect when others were in grave peril, fifty points, to Miss Hermione Granger."

Bugger.

Bloody buggering _hell_.

Recent events? _Those_ recent events? He was talking about the bit with the Devil's Snare! Hermione saving all our arses! But, if he'd awarded her points, then did that mean—

"Second, to Mr. Ronald Weasley, for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen these many years, fifty points." The Gryffindor table erupted into further cheers, patting both Hermione and Ron on the back, and I did the math. One-hundred points brought them to 412, within just _three_ of Ravenclaw, and ten of us. This was not good. Not good at all. Harry was still seated there, and no doubt Dumbledore would be awarding him points and they'd be—

"To Miss Elena Sinistra, I award fifty points, for being the only one to solve the most difficult of Professor Snape's riddles."

I'm sorry, was I saying something? Funny, can't hear myself over the sound of how awesome I am.

Tracey gave me the biggest smile I'd ever seen grace her lips, and down the table, I heard Draco curse something fierce. When I met his gaze, his eyes were practically bugging out of his head. His face spoke what his mouth didn't—_what did you do_? And not angrily, either. Questioning. Happy. _Madly_ happy. I could only grin back at him.

Only, it didn't last long. The look fell short just as soon as Dumbledore had begun to speak. "For pure nerve, and outstanding courage, sixty points to Mr. Harry Potter."

The whole Slytherin table erupted into outrage. _Gryffindor this_ and _buggering twats_ that. Why? Because we were tied now, of course. And I wasn't sure how to feel about it. I could see the grinning faces of my closest friends two tables away, excited at the prospect of being tied, but could hear the discomfort and anger of students this side of the world—like Tracey and Draco, that spurned that uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach, too. I wanted to win. Wanted the House Cup to be ours. It _was_ ours before the awarding of points, which, as much as I was happy about my own portion, it had brought the Gryffindors dangerously close.

And that wasn't the worst of it. "Lastly, to Mr. Neville Longbottom, I award ten points; because it takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but more, still, to stand up to your friends."

_To Neville, Hermione? Really? _

Oh, _hell_. I'd forgotten about that bit. Did the man know _everything_? Surely, he did, because with one flick of his hand, the green banners faded away, replaced by vibrant red and gold. Gryffindors cheered and whistled and clapped and looked oh-so-happy. My table, however, was the complete opposite. And despite it all, even with the confliction roiling in my chest, I managed to smile for my friends, for their win, for their happiness. They'd deserved it, really.

If only everyone believed that. "I reckon you're happy then, are you, that we lost?" I heard Draco before I saw him, following Tracey's gaze to the boy standing at my shoulder. He'd moved just so me, oh _wonderful_. "That your ruddy Gryffindors beat us?"

"I s'pose I could be happy _for_ them," I shrugged, trying to ignore him even as he took a seat. "But not with them. They are from another house, afterall, one that isn't ours. Despite my friendship with them, I am still, first and foremost, a Slytherin. That is where my loyalties lie."

Tracey grinned, ear-to-ear, shooting me a wink. Draco, on the other hand, leaned forward, brows raised. "About time you admitted it, Sinistra," he drawled, sitting just a little closer. "Now, if you could just change that mind of yours about friends, and have your loyalty lie with _me_ instead Potter, that'd be _perfect_."

It is my turn to wink. "Keep dreaming, Draco."

* * *

**Uh, um, is today Sunday? Oh, my. I hadn't noticed. Thought it was Friday. Lalalalalala. Ahem. Terribly sorry about that update not being on time, on Friday, as it's **_**supposed**_** to be. I joined Tumblr just this week, and then days went past like a blur, and suddenly, I'm sitting here this morning, going "Oh, bugger. I've got a chapter to upload!" So, my apologies ladies and gents.**

**Anyway, I know this is rather short and without action, but we've come upon the end, and I've got only one chapter left, that I **_**will**_** upload tomorrow (once I get around to starting it). If anyone noticed, the points are off compared to the movies, mostly in the case of Slytherin, who was typically **_**far**_** out. But, remember, Elena was docked points as well, so, there.**

**Let me know your thoughts! I know it certainly wasn't as strong as usual. My apologies once more.  
**


	26. Not Really Goodbye

**Chapter Twenty-Six: Not Really Goodbye**

* * *

I should be happy. I should be excited at the prospect of seeing Grandma, and her house, and the Grangers, and _home_. No classes, no rules, more freedom. But as I sit here, packing things in my trunk, Lightning sitting on my bed, ever watchful…

…I don't feel it.

The First Year Girl's Dormitory has been stripped clean of all posters, trinkets and hangings that made it lively, that reminded us of home—that made it _ours_. And as much as I know we'll be returning to it in September and start all over on this very set of four-poster beds, in this very room…I haven't the desire to leave it.

Because despite the fact that my sheets were known for strangling me, and my floor was occasionally filled with slime, and poor Lightning was sit on and bullied by that _monstrosity_, Pudge…

It is still home.

As I closed my trunk, and plucked Lightning's cage from beneath my bed, ushering her inside, I cast a look around the room. I felt as though in mourning of a lost friend, which was silly, because in two months, I'd be standing exactly on this spot, letting Lightning out to curl up on my pillow, joking with Tracey, trying to ignore the other three occupants of the room.

But the trouble is, I don't know what will be different. We're still young, and despite what we've been through this year, there is no telling what is to come. What will change. What will remain. It's frightening, from my small, twelve-year-old stature, to think of these thinks, to imagine where I'll be in my Seventh Year. To imagine what I'll look like, standing in this spot for the last time, having graduated. It's silly for my mind to wander there now, but I think of all the things I discovered this year that I remain relatively in the dark about, and _Merlin _it scares me. It—

"Elena?" the soft voice drifted my way from the doorway, and I turned to see Tracey peeking into the room, a timid smile on. "Everything all right?"

I thought of the summer to come. Thought of the promise to see one another. Of the things Hermione and I have planned to do. Of the freedom that lies before me. I found myself returning the grin.

"Yeah. Ready to go?"

"Definitely," she nodded. "Summer's my favorite. And a summer with magic? _Much better_."

"Hermione would tell you we're not allowed." My smiled quirked, and she giggled.

"Well, I s'pose it's a good thing she's not rubbing off on us, then."

"A good thing indeed." More grinning.

"Come on," she extended her hand to me, nodding towards the stairs. "Let's get going before Professor Sinistra has a fit."

Did I mention she's been a tad..._on edge_ since the potions riddle thing? No? Oh, well, now I did.

"Wouldn't that be a pity," I snorted, grabbing Lightning and making chase.

* * *

The Hogsmeade station was packed. I thought it had been a _zoo_ at Christmas when Mum and Hermione and I had headed home for the holidays. Bloody hell had I been wrong. I'd be lying if I didn't tell you that I _dead_ what King's Cross will look like once we arrive.

I lost Tracey early on. I s'pose a part of me expected her to come find the others with me, share a compartment, ride the way back. But we'd barely made it out of the carriage when she grabbed her things and turned to hug me with her goodbyes. _What_?

"I'm going to find Padma, I told her I'd ride back with her. Her sister's likely going to be off with Brown."

My brain conveniently kicked in then as I tried to place these two names. I seemed to remember Hermione telling me something about one of her roommates, some Lavender girl, who was loud, had an obnoxious laugh that was somewhere between a squeal and a pig dying, and snored just as infuriatingly. Hadn't her last name been Brown?

But the other name… "Who's Padma?" I frowned, and Tracey all but laughed at me.

"She's a Ravenclaw, our year. Her sister's a Gryffindor, like Brown." She crossed her arms, her grin widening. "Did you think you were my only friend, Elena? I _do_ need someone to spend time with when you're off saving the world, you know."

I chuckled. "What? Our _lovely_ housemates not an option?"

"I wanted someone _human_, Elena. Jeez."

She hugged me then, tight enough to tell me this was her goodbye. I wished her a good summer; she made me promise that Hermione and I would come rescue her from her parents, and then she was off, disappearing in seconds through the throng of students milling about.

And now I was alone, clinging to Lightning's cage in desperation, fiddling with the bracelet around my wrist to calm my nerves, hoping to catch a flash of red hair, or bushy hair, or—

"Oi, Sinistra!"

I whirled, searching for the speaker, and coming face-to-face with two rather tall, red-headed boys. I remembered them from the train, that first day at King's Cross. I also remembered them because I was best friends with their brother. "Fred! George!"

"_Ronald_ sent us to find you," one winked, while the other barely contained his laughter.

"Or rather, Granger _made_ him."

"He may as well _marry_ the bird now, if he's already started taking _orders_."

"Try _tellin'_ him that, he'll get as red as his hair. Didn't you see when Ginny asked about over the holidays?"

"Uh, guys?" I spoke up, and they seemed to remember what they were here for: me.

And just like that, Lightning's cage left my grasp with one twin, while the other took my hand, dragging me through the crowd. I should've complained. I really should've. But they were so good-natured about coming to get me (I was well aware what they said about Slytherins when asked, thank you), and they'd just given me _brilliant_ ammunition against Ron should the opportunity arise, that I simply couldn't.

Besides, they found my friends in a matter of seconds after taking off. As the twin dragging me along stuffed some kind of parchment into his trouser pockets, and the other handed Lightning back to me, I grinned, ear-to-ear, watching as Ron and Hermione argued, while Harry stood nearby, saying his goodbyes to Hagrid.

"You know, Hermione practically threw herself at the whole _escort-the-injured-chess-player-to-the-infirmary_ thing that day Ron got hurt," I spoke up, and the twins looked down at me, exchanged sly smiles, and then focused back on me. I was well aware they'd forced out some details of that night from their brother already, so even if we'd agreed not to tell anyone _anything_, I figured it was okay, if it was them. And besides, it was my way of saying thanks. "He hasn't a clue." I added, just for good measure, and saw the light go on in their eyes.

"You know," one said, leaning down to be eye-level with me. "You're alright, Sinistra."

"Not bad at all," the other chuckled, winking.

And just like that, they were gone. As fast as Tracey had been. Through the crowd and off to their destinations, newfound ammunition sitting happily in their minds. And I didn't feel bad about it. Not one bit. Because Ron hadn't let me hear the end of the whole _didn't-drink-the-whole-bottle_ fiasco, I figured it was just fair game.

"Elena! There you are!" Hermione exclaimed, bringing my attention back to them. "We were getting worried, so we—"

"You," Ron interjected, and she threw him a look.

"I know," I chuckled, gripping Lightning's cage tighter as Harry joined us, and Hagrid gave us all a big wave before turning to tend to the crowd of students. At least _him_ I could see as he left. "So, everyone all ready?"

"I've already put our things in a compartment," Hermione explained, before getting aboard the train. As I passed Ron, he sent me an exasperated look, and then followed with Harry. We wound our way down the train only a bit before Hermione stopped at a door, sliding it open and ushering me inside. Hedwig was already there, sitting still and pretty in her cage above Harry's seat—because apparently the luggage had made it here before me. The trunk beneath his seat had his initials, and across from him was mine, where I took my seat.

As soon as we were all inside and begun settling in, I unlatched Lightning's cage, letting her roam free. She made a beeline for Hermione, where she settled down, curling up on the seat between us. "I s'pose I'm not the only one who suffers from being in a different house."

Hermione waved me off. "Don't complain. I seem to recall you being a full-on Slytherin now, Miss _I can't believe you won the House Cup_."

"I can't!" I threw my arms up. "It was ours!"

"The Quidditch Cup, yeah," Ron said, smugly. "But not the House Cup."

"The _Hogwarts_ Quidditch Cup, or the national one? Which win are we discussing here?"

"She's got you there," Harry laughed.

"Shut it. Both of you," Ron grumbled, bitter Cannons fan that he was.

"What are you both doing with your summers, then?" Hermione asked, tactfully changing subjects. When she got a response from neither of the boys, she ploughed on. "Elena and I were planning on doing some traveling, if our parents will take us. Nothing too far, but we were thinking of making it to Stonehenge, maybe, if Professor Sinistra—"

"You _can_ call her Aurora, you know. You always have," I snorted, and watched her cheeks redden.

"I know, but after actually having her as a teacher, it just feels…different."

"Stonehenge?" Ron frowned. "What the hell's that?"

"It's a prehistoric monument, located in Wiltshire, and it's—"

"Hey, Elena," Harry's voice drifted over to me through Hermione's lengthy explanation that was causing Ron's eyes to bug out awkwardly. Whether out of interest, or contempt, I hadn't the foggiest. So I focused my eyes on Harry, who wasn't staring my way at all. "What's your cat doing?" As I followed his gaze, I found him staring beneath my seat, to where Lightning was playing with something sticking out of my trunk. Frowning, I leaned down to investigate…

…and found a silver chain loosely dangling between her paws. Oh, _bugger_. Bloody buggering _hell_.

I knew that chain. And what was attached to it. And the journal buried in my trunk alongside it.

And suddenly, it was back in the depths of the clothes and books and other belongings stuffed inside. Lost. Forgotten. _Ignored_.

As I sat back up, Harry mirrored the frown I'd worn moments ago. "What was it? The thing she was playing with?"

"N-Nothing," I stammered, smiling in a way I knew was too shaky. Suspicious. Thankfully, he wasn't Hermione, and didn't catch it. "Just a bit of string. From my scarf." I turned back to Hermione and Ron. "What part is she lecturing about now?"

Hermione, dutifully, answered me instead of Harry. "How we might visit Cardiff for the festival there, after Stonehenge, and—"

I leaned back in my seat, folding my arms behind my head, and listened to my best friend drone on about the wonderful things we'd see this summer.

Happy Summer.

* * *

**THE END. (TECHNICALLY IT'S 11:59 AND THEREFORE STILL MONDAY!)**

…**until Friday, when I will HOPEFULLY start posting Year Two (provided I start before then, that is)**

**Do excuse the fact that the beginning is rather melodramatic. I know I'll never write a goodbye dorm room in seven the way Elena thinks about, and despite it being a tad early for the "oh-god-things-are-changing" routine, I felt it was fitting. The other years will be filled with so much more, and this is only the beginning. Anyway, lame, my apologies.**

**Side note: Lightning? Elena had a cat? Why yes, she did. She was mentioned in the very beginning, and once or twice in the first few chapters. Where did she go? She was there the whole time, I'm merely a thoughtless prat who fails to remember the little furball's existence. I'M SORRY LIGHTNING, I PROMISE I'LL BE NICER STARTING IN SECOND YEAR!**

**Side side note: Yes, Padma's in Ravenclaw, like in the books, where she belongs. NOT IN BLOODY GRYFFINDOR. Silly movie-makers. Bunch of tarts you are. Anyway, I needed someone for Tracey, because she's not a loner, as I've portrayed her to be, and her house options are… limited. Cough. And writing Fred's name **_**anywhere**_** in context with **_**George**_** immediately afterwards makes me sob, if only a little. Boo.**

**Lastly, for those who've asked, worry not, I've had, since before any of you saw the first chapter of this posted, all seven years of Elena's school life planned out. I know where it starts, where it ends, who her father is, who she ends up with, who she becomes, her future job, even her children's names. Woot. Anywhooo. Hope you enjoyed, all!**


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